If It Comes Back, It's Yours
by todokichan
Summary: When all you want is everything, how do you give up what matters most? YES it is an OC, and i dislike OC's as much as the next person, but please read this and treat it like a normal book, just with some premade characters thrown in. thnxs! R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its characters. **

**I do however own Sage, Luke, the Grinners, and any other character you have never heard of. **

**Thank you.**

**PS) Action scenes are hard to write!**

* * *

The smell was what she hated the most.

It was overpowering, a dank, musty smell that hung over the entire area. It smelled like a mildewy swamp rat. Which made sense, there being rats all over the place, and they were probably mildewed. But the kid seemed to like it, cuz he ran in there several times a month.

The tunnel loomed before her, the sludge at the bottom trickling along at a faster pace today. The odor wafted towards her on a foul, warm gust of air coming from the gaping entrance. Her sensitive nose wrinkled in disgust, and her feet simply would not move forward. She hated, _hated_ the place. But if the kid she was paid two-fifty an hour to watch was in there, she really should go and fetch him.

So, she deliberately picked up one foot, then the other, gritting her teeth as she thought about what she would do to the kid once she got her hands around his miserable neck. What could possibly be so interesting to him that was found in the rotting depths of the sewer pipes was beyond her.

The hairs on her neck stood on end as the shadow of the tunnel passed over her head and she stepped inside. It was cool and dark in here, and she glanced longingly at the warm, bright light outside. Not that she minded the dark. She actually preferred it. But this dark was unnatural, and…dangerous, somehow. She didn't even want to _think_ about what might be slithering around in that sludge.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before calling, "LUKE!!! I swear if you don't come out this_ instant_I won't give you any more graham crackers! Luuuke!!!" Her voice took on a pleading edge that echoed deep into the tunnel and she swallowed, trying to pull herself together. So what a rat had just crawled over her boot? So what there was who-knows-what dripping from the ceiling? So what that the green slime on her right had just moved?

Wait.

Without thinking, she twisted and her right foot shot out and caught whatever it was square on. A huge rodent of some kind squealed and went flying into the sludge river. She stared at the lazy ripples where it had disappeared for about 10 seconds before shuddering violently and turning to continue her search.

Her feet felt heavier now, and she could _swear _there was something watching her. It was really freaking her out.

"Luke?" she called, more softly now. "Luke please come out. I'll play hide-and-seek some other time, alright? I promise! Just…can we please get out of here?" she waited, goose-bumps rising on her skin, praying that he would show himself. Her neck prickled again, and she whirled around, eyes wide, trying to see whatever it was that was in there. Her breathing quickened: she was really scared now. It was dark and damp and there were little sounds everywhere. The entrance was pretty far away now, just a smallish spot of light, through which she could just see a tree, swaying in the wind.

Something grabbed her arm and she shrieked, ripping her arm from its clutches.

It was Luke. He had a highly amused smirk on his miserable, 11 year old face. After the initial shock of seeing him standing calmly before her, rage boiled up inside her, and she fought the urge to wring his scrawny neck. Instead, she snatched up his collar and shook him violently, lifting off the ground.

"WHAT is your PROBLEM?! I called and called! Why didn't you come out?! You KNOW you're not supposed to come in here! Why do you always disobey?!" she emphasized these words by dropping him roughly to the ground. He just smirked more.

"Why Sage, you weren't…_scared_…were you?"

"No I wasn't! But if I was you I would be! She turned and shoved him to walk in front of her, towards the exit, as quickly as possible without seeming desperate. The kid only laughed condescendingly.

"You know, for a grown-up, you sure are a big scaredy-cat. It's actually a lot cleaner the further in you go." he taunted.

"Yeah, and a lot darker and smellier and nastier too, huh." She snapped.

"No really!" he insisted, a tone of honesty in his voice. "The smell clears up, and it looks much different, too. Cleaner, with not so many rats, and hardly any guck on the walls. And the nasty water is cleaner, and more…water-like." He chattered, focusing on the word _clean._

She stopped listening after a while, and focused on _not_ focusing on the prickles at her neck or the feeling of being followed. She really didn't want to look back, for fear of what she might see, so she kept her eyes trained on the exit, which didn't seem to be getting any closer, no matter how fast she pushed Luke. It was all she could do to keep from picking him up and bolting from the place.

Finally, they broke into the bright sunlight once more, and Sage gulped deep breaths of the…more or less fresher air. She bent over, hands on her knees, and shut her eyes, breathing hard. Luke just stood there, looking at her strangely.

Finally, she had composed herself enough to intimidate him. "Don't you EVER. Go in there again. You hear me?! _Ever!_ You do and I make your life a living hell, Got that?!" she snarled.

Luke bit his lip and nodded silently.

She huffed a sigh, and looked at him for a while. He looked right back, wide-eyed and innocent looking. Ha.

"Okay. Let's go get some chow, Lukie-Palooki." She patted him on the back and gave him a playful shove, still shaken up, but trying to hide it. Her neck prickled once more, and she stole an uneasy glance back to the tunnel. Her heart skipped a beat.

But…no.

No, a shadow hadn't just slipped back into the darkness. Yes, it had just been her paranoid delusion. No, she didn't just see a gleaming eye looking back at her.

She shivered, her heart beating unnaturally fast now, and turned quickly back to Luke, even though she hated showing her back to that tunnel. She concentrated on warmth of the sun on her shoulders, and the cool, _fresh_ breeze that tousled her golden-brown hair. But she only relaxed once they crested a hill, and the tunnel dropped out of sight.

They walked along in silence, neither of them in much of a hurry…anymore.

Finally Luke said, "I can't believe you kicked a poor little rat."

She laughed and smacked him playfully upside the head. He laughed as well, and they continued into Dublith peacefully.

* * *

After a meal of cold chicken burgers and some pretty good apples, she and Luke made their way back to his house, where his parents were already waiting.

"Where have you been?!" Luke's father, Mr. Grinner demanded.

"You should have been home when we got here." Mrs. Grinner chided gently.

Luke glanced at Sage uneasily, and she swatted his shoulder reassuringly before stepping forward.

"Luke and I went for a walk, and uh…took a longer route than expected. We decided to pick up dinner while we were out." She explained, smiling sweetly, like a good baby-sitter.

Luke's father glowered down at her, while his mother smiled, saying how nice that was, and they'd see her tomorrow, while pressing the days pay into her palm.

Sage smiled at her, shook Mr. Grinner's hand, ruffled Luke's mop of dark, shaggy hair, and stepped from the bright house into the darkening night.

As she walked away, she heard a deep voice say, "I don't trust her. She's a crook if I ever saw one."

"Just because of her father?" intoned a soft, female voice.

"Tch. It's in their blood to be dishonest!"

"No it's not! I like Sage! She's like my sister!" cried a child's voice. Stacy smiled. Luke was a lot like a pesky little brother, too. He had a good heart though.

"Hush, son. This is none of your concern." Mr. Grinner.

"Yes it is! I'm the one who spends time with her! You don't even know her! If you get rid of her like you said before, I'll hate you forever!" Footsteps running away. A door slamming. _I will hate them too, Lukie-Palooki. _

"That was nicely handled. What do you have against her?"

"I don't have to have anything against her not to trust her, I mean, she's par…"

Sage didn't hear anymore. She was walking quickly and quietly away, cheeks burning. She wouldn't even be working for them, but they were some of the few people who would hire those who were part chimera. Yeah, yeah, so her father was a leopard-chimera. So what! People around here didn't like chimera's, not after an incident several years ago, when a band of them had snapped and gone on a killing/destroying spree. Much of the city had been damaged, and about 100 people were killed by dogs, crocodiles, lions, sharks, you name it.

It was because of this that people around here tended to take one look at her cat-like eyes and slam the door in her face without a second glance. Her apparel choices didn't really help either. The cropped shirts she wore occasionally (because of the heat, not because she was a ho.) didn't do anything to hide the spattering of leopard spots at the base of he spine. Her nails also grew into claws when she was angry, but since she didn't get _really _angry very often, so it wasn't much of a problem.

It _did_ make her angry that people judged her based only on her appearance. She wanted to shake them and yell in their faces, "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to judge a book by its cover?! What's wrong with you, are you some kind of wild animal?!"

Ha. The irony.

She turned the last corner on her way home, and swatted aside the thick, hanging cloth that served as her door and trudged inside, nearly tripping over a stray dog in the process.

Sage plopped down on some of the blankets bunched in the corner, and tried to convince the dog to come closer. One more warm body at night would be a blessing. It stared at her warily for a moment before sniffing its way to her outstretched hand. In no time, it was curled in the crook of her legs, its little head resting on her calf. She smiled to herself as she stroked its filthy ears.

Why couldn't people be like that? She wasn't saying they had to just jump right in and welcome her into their homes. She just wished they would sniff around, get a feel for her, and _then_ decide whether or not to turn away.

"It's not that hard, is it, boy?" The dog sighed, and Sage smiled, happy to have some company.

She let her thoughts drift, now that she had come off her rants about haters. She thought about Luke and his comments about her being like a big sister to him. She thought about coming change in seasons, since it was indeed almost September. It wasn't often very hot here in Dublith, which was nice, but the winters were bitterly cold. She had almost died, one year, but a beast of a man had found her curled in a doorway, and after looking at her for a while, had scooped her up and taken her to his home, which doubled as a butcher shop. There, his wife—a very pretty woman, though really quite scary, most of the time—had fixed her right up. She saw them occasionally, and her husband was usually kind enough to give her a bag of the useless scraps of meat he had chopped. They were good people who had helped her regardless of her blood.

She smiled, thinking about them. Her thoughts drifted to this and that, and after a while, she fell asleep.

* * *

Sage's days passed easily enough, with no more episodes at the tunnel, and no more overheard conversations about her inevitable craftiness as a chimera. She spent her days with Luke, chasing him down and playing games, spent her nights in her renovated-alleyway-home, (sometimes with the dog), and spent her free time pick-pocketing, fighting the average thugs, and trying to stay out of trouble.

She hardly ever thought about the day in the tunnel, with the thing watching her. Hardly ever, but not never.

When ever she _did _think about it, her senses immediately pricked, and she felt totally uneasy, jumping at every sound, seeing shapes in every shadow.

Other than that, her life went smoothly. Sure, it was lacking in several areas, such as: the proper food area, the proper shelter area, the social area, and, of course, the love area. The latter two being not so as prominent as the former two, but still, they were lacking.

Sage's mind was on these four categories when she raised her hand and knocked on Luke's door one morning, late in September. She had a thin jacket on her hunched shoulders, trying to block out the biting wind that had risen a few days before. Soon, the door was opened, and Luke stepped aside for her to enter. He had that look on his face that she had come to dread. The 'I'm-restless-so-I'm-gonna-make-your-life-a-living-hell-today-and-there's-nothing-you-can-do-about-it' look.

Quickly, she darted inside and shut the door behind her.

"No." she said flatly. Luke looked at her innocently.

"Whatever are you talking about, Sage?" he asked innocently.

"No." she said more firmly. He shook his head sadly,

"I don't know what you mean. I was just looking outside thinking about what a _beautiful_ day it is today—"

"NO."

"—and I thought to myself, 'Wow. Wouldn't it be great to take one of our walks today?' Just look, Sage. Look."

She didn't look.

"It's a beautiful day. The sun is shining—I know you like the sun—and the breeze is crisp and inviting." He finished with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

When had he gotten such an extensive vocabulary? When had he gained use of his eyebrow muscles?

She shook her head adamantly. "I know what you're thinking Luke, and I'm _not_ falling for that again, like last time."

"Please?" he said softly, trying some sort of puppy-dog-look crap on her. She frowned and glared at him until he muttered something and turned away.

Five minutes later, he "accidentally" knocked a glass vase onto the floor, shattering it into 18 pieces. Sage carefully picked them up and put them in a bowl, set it on the table and tried to decide whether or not to grind his face into the broken glass. She decided on gluing them meticulously back together, and setting it where it had been before he pulled his little stunt.

20 minutes after that, he broke 6 of his toy horses, the legs scattered across the entire house. She cuffed him over the ears and booted him to his room, while she located and sorted all the appendages and placed them and their maimed owners in a box for later.

She had just finished this job when she heard the window open, and caught a glimpse of something fluttering away in the wind.

It was an envelope.

Before she could stop him, Luke was running out the door, coat and shoes on, shrieking something about a vital document mother and dad wanted you to have, and urging her to come help him catch it.

Oh, he'd catch it all right.

In a flash, she was down the steps and running after him, still tugging her boots on, and yelling at him to come back this instant you little rat!

She could barely see him through the crowds that had gathered in the streets, but she kept an eye on him, doing her best to navigate through the people and catch up to him.

It wasn't easy, as he was darting through legs and around wagons with such ease, him being so small, and her being…slightly larger. She looked ahead of him to try and see where he was going, and her heart fell.

He was headed to the outskirts of Dublith, to the sewer tunnel. She gritted her teeth and pushed on, desperate to catch him before he made it there. Because if he made it there, then she'd be obligated to follow him inside and there was no telling how deep he would go…

She shoved those thoughts aside, and concentrated on catching up. Yes! She was getting closer! She put on another burst of speed…

And slammed into a wagon. The driver leered down at her where she lay in the dirt, dazed and aching. Several people around her laughed, and some scuffed dirt onto her already shabby clothes. But she didn't care. She scrambled to her feet and looked around wildly for Luke.

He was at the top of the hill that signaled the edge of Dublith. He turned and waved at her to follow him.

She started running, yelling at him in vain. _Dang it, dang it, DANG IT!_ She thought angrily. She didn't want to go back in the pipes. She didn't want to feel that thing watching her. She didn't want to feel the oppressing darkness and smell the rotting slime. She didn't want to be that scared again!

But she had little choice. So she ran on, until the tunnel was looming before her, the same smell, the same sludge, the same creepy factor. From inside, she could hear Luke laughing, calling her to come here, she had to see this. She definitely did not care what it was.

Soon, she found herself inside, chills coursing through her limbs and down her back. She stared straight ahead, peering through the gloom for that blasted boy, putting one foot in front of the other.

_Heh heh, it's not so bad…_she thought nervously, well aware that it was a lie. After a while, she could barely see her way, turned around to see how far the entrance was, and gasped.

She could barely see it: it was just a tiny pinprick of bright light against a dark background. A sound of fear escaped her gaping mouth, and she turned reluctantly back to the blackness ahead of her.

"_LUUUKE_!" she screamed, her voice tight with fear. "LUKE please, this isn't--" her voice broke. "Isn't the time or the place!"

Her feet felt rooted to the narrow, gunk-covered walkway. All she wanted was to be outside, in the warm sun, even with the cold wind. Just to be _out!_ The prickly feeling was returning, and she whirled this way and that, finally pressing her back to the wall, trying to see in the shadows. The fear rose in her chest, and she tried desperately to quell it. Finally, she just shut her eyes and screamed through her teeth, trying to vent the terror into the dank air.

In the silence that followed, she heard footsteps from far ahead, and a thin voice called out, "Sage? Sage, it's okay. Just…come on a little further, please? It's a lot better here." His voice sounded so far away. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, looking in the direction the voice had come from.

The dark didn't seem so dark, suddenly. She held a hand in front of her face, able to see the detail of the leather band around her wrist, even. Vaguely, she wondered if it had anything to do with the feline blood in her, that she could now see in the dark. As she turned her hand over, she blinked in surprise. Her "claws" were out, and caught the light faintly. Apparently, fear triggered them as well as anger.

Something else caught her eye. It was a dirty envelope, sealed and a bit crumpled, with a smiley face in one corner. It was the same envelope Luke had tossed into the wind. She snatched it up and stuffed it in her pocket. Evidence.

She shut her eyes once more, took several gulps of the disgusting air, and forced herself to continue. She was loathe go farther, but figured Luke would continue to come here until she saw what he wanted her to see.

It was slow going, because her feet still didn't want to go. _Mind over matter_, she told herself, holding her now clawed hands defensively before her. Now that she could defend herself, she felt a little better, but still afraid of what she couldn't see. Far ahead, she thought she heard some slight noises, like scuffling sounds.

Then Luke shrieked.

Immediately, she snapped into action, running as fast as she could to the sounds.

"LUKE!" she cried. "I'm coming! It's okay!" She had a feeling she was reassuring herself, more than Luke.

The tunnel turned abruptly to the right, and her boots skidded through the muck as she struggled to make the turn without falling into the sewage. As she ran on, she realized he had been right. The slime thinned out, and the water flowed faster, and there were lights up ahead. She could make out some shapes ahead, and they had Luke. Anger flared inside her, and without hesitation, she threw her weight against one of them.

It was a man, and he yelped in surprise before turning to face her. They hit the ground solidly, and Sage straddled him, going at him with both fists. He didn't seem fazed, and bucked her off easily enough. She skidded on all fours, one boot slipping into the water behind her, then pushed up and swung out a leg.

She would have caught him square in the chest, but someone else caught her leg from behind and swung her away from her target and into the wall. She slid to the ground but immediately struggled to her feet, where she stood in a defensive position, still dazed, and blinking blood from her eyes.

There were three people in front of her: all men, and all slightly feral looking. One of them was short and compactly built, with spiky black hair and a cruel look in his eyes. He had a katana strapped to his waist, but hadn't pulled it out, yet.

The one who had thrown her into the wall was _huge_, about seven feet tall, and built like an ox. He had choppy, white-blond hair, with deep-set eyes, and no weapon. He didn't really need one.

The last was the one who held Luke. She glared at him and bared her teeth, flexing her hands. He was lanky and bald, with little round glasses and a scar that covered half his head and ran down his face. She locked eyes with Luke, and tried to convey that it would be alright, she'd get him out of there if it was the last thing she did.

"Oh-ho! It looks like she's one of us, Roa!" said the tough-looking man with the katana.

"It would seem that way, Dorchette." The huge guy—Roa—said. Stacy didn't pay any attention to them: she kept her gazed trained on the baldy.

"Let him go." She spat through her teeth. "Or else."

Dorchette sneered. "Or what? You'll scratch us?"

In the blink of an eye, Sage turned on him and lashed out with her clawed hands. He barely reacted in time to save himself from being blinded, pulling out his katana and shielding himself with the flat of the blade.

She locked eyes with him and snarled, "Yeah, Something like that."

He snarled right back and shoved her off of him, now wielding his blade.

"You know, I bet you wouldn't be so tough if we de-clawed you."

Luke whimpered, and Sage ground her teeth together. She had to get Luke out of there. She didn't know who these people were or there intentions, but she wasn't interested in finding out.

"Give me the kid!" she demanded, bristling.

"What's he to you?" Roa asked patronizingly, crossing his tree-trunk arms.

She decided to lie. "He's my brother."

Dorchette barked a laugh. "Nice try, kitty, but you smell completely different from each other."

Sage looked at him sharply. How could he know what she was so easily? How could he tell they weren't related? By her smell? What did that mean?

"Excuse me?" she said quietly, but strongly.

"Um, you smell like a chimera, aaand you," he pointed at Luke, "Smell like a ratty little kid." He grinned, displaying over-developed canines, and pointed his sword at Luke, running it lightly along his nose. The boy began to cry, and Sage couldn't take it anymore.

She went after Dorchette with renewed fury, slashing wildly with her claws and narrowly avoiding his blade. It was not easy: he was very skilled and really fast. But she did manage to get him once or twice.

Then, he swung out his leg for a kick, and she ducked under to dodge, and he was ready. Right as she crouched low, he twisted and swung. She saw it coming, and pushed up, trying to jump over the sword. She avoided what would have been a fatal blow, but he still managed to slice open her calf, even through her heavy-material boot. Pain snaked up her leg, and she couldn't catch her fall, landing heavily on her side instead. Glancing at her leg, she saw that it was already dark with blood, and it hurt terribly.

When she looked up at her opponent, she saw a katana pointed at her face. She ground her teeth together, trying to hide her desperation. There was no opening, no way out. But she had to do _something,_ had to get Luke out of there.

So she shoved herself backwards, away from the sharp object in front of her face, and into The Baldy, she hoped. She hit someone's legs, but she knew right away it was the wrong person, because two large hands gripped her upper arms and hauled her up effortlessly.

Sage looked around, trying to find some way out. Dorchette stood in front of her, bleeding from claw marks on his arm and chest, and from a split-lip. He looked pretty mad.

"And you couldn't have done something like this _before_ she mauled me?!" he snapped.

A rumbling voice behind her said "I don't like to fight other's battles for them."

Before she knew what was happening, a katana hilt smashed into her cheek. She saw red and yellow, and her head spun from the impact. For a minute she couldn't hear anything, but then she realized Roa was talking.

"…say to play nice?"

"Yeah, well dogs and cats don't play nice. Ever."

"I didn't think hitting defenseless women was your style." Roa growled. Dorchette just rolled his eyes. Sage took her chance and used Roa's strong grip to her advantage, bracing her weight against his arms, and shot her right leg out towards the baldy. None of them saw it coming, and therefore, none were prepared.

The Baldy dropped the ground like a rock, unconscious.

"_Run!_" she shouted. Luke glanced once more at her, apologetically, and he ran.

For an eleven-year-old, he was pretty speedy.

Dorchette cursed and started after him, but Sage managed to trip him. Roa yanked her away from him painfully, but she wasn't done yet. She pulled her shoulder forward and around, so Roa's arm was in front of her face, and then sank her teeth into it, tasting blood. He bellowed in pain, and tried to jerk his arm free, but she held on, blood flowing freely now.

"Dorchette!" he rumbled. "Leave the kid, get back here."

Something collided with her head, and blackness took over.

* * *

**A/N: If it ever says 'Stacy' instead of 'Sage', i apologize. I changed her name halfway through, and i may have missed some. I'ts the same person. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sage heard voices before she actually saw anything.

She was aware of her surroundings: she was lying on a cold stone floor, her arms were wrenched behind her and bound far too tightly, and she was hurting all over. With out opening her eyes, she did a once over, trying to pinpoint all the aches individually.

Her calf hurt the most, a sharp throbbing that told her it hadn't been bandaged, and her boot hadn't even been removed. Her shoulder hurt as well, but she could tell it was only bruised. Her head ached like it had been slammed into a concrete wall—oh yeah. It had. Her side stung when she breathed in, although she didn't know why. And her face hurt. She was sure her cheekbone must have a nasty bruise by now. Opening her eyes at last, she cursed Dorchette and his stupid katana for that.

It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom, but once they did, she saw Roa sitting on a wooden crate talking to a woman with short white hair and a…well, a really cool tattoo across her shoulder and up onto her face. She was very pretty. The baldy and The-Idiot-With-the-Katana were no where to be seen, but a tall man with slicked back, blond hair and a thin moustache had taken their place.

Sage had been tossed in a corner of the small, concrete room with one light at the far end. There were crates and rope and other things like that scattered helter-skelter around it, and the guards—she had guessed that to be the occupation of the three other people—were sitting on some of them.

Sage desperately wanted to shift into a more comfortable position, but would rather not draw attention to herself. Bracing her chin against the dirty floor, she managed to move her shoulder out from under her body quietly enough, but as she was lowering herself to the floor, her side screamed in protest, and she hissed through her teeth.

_Of course I can't stay out of trouble._ She griped to herself as the blonde man's head jerked up.

"Well, well, well." He chuckled. She really did not like the grin plastered to his face. "It's awake." He started towards her and she automatically scooted away from him.

"Leppun…." Said the woman with white hair softly, a warning.

"I'm not going to hurt her…noticeably." His voice was oily and thick, and it made her shudder with disgust. She wouldn't let him see that she was afraid of him, though, so she bared her teeth and smirked at him as he approached, her cheekbone protesting.

Finally he was standing over her, sneering at her attempt to seem defiant.

"You're quite the little punk, aren't you?" he said with disdain. "Luckily, it doesn't take much to cure that particular ailment." He batted her cheek with his grimy boot, right where it hurt. She growled in the back of her throat and promptly spat on the boot. He didn't seem fazed.

"It's a shame you can't morph all the way." Leppun said, a hint of anger in his voice, as he dug his heel into her back and turned her around so her back was to him, tapping on her spotted skin with his toe.

"You'd make a lovely rug. And just think! If you were a rug," he slid her around again to face him. "I could _beat you_," with this, he buried his foot in her ribs. "All I want."

She gasped like a fish out of water, curling into a ball. She wanted to wrap her arms around her middle and try to hold herself together, but they were strapped behind her, so all she could do was cough and roll around onto her stomach. She didn't cry out, and was proud of herself for that, but she couldn't help but make little noises of pain now and then. Now her side was killing her, and she just wanted to go home and go to sleep with the little dog that had befriended her.

Far too soon, Leppun nudged her back to her side. "Hm. Didn't like that?" he chuckled mirthlessly. "Well I guess you just—"

"Leppun." A deep voice was suddenly there as well, and Sage opened her eyes blearily. It was Roa, and he was standing authoritatively before her, his arms across his chest. She noticed that one was wrapped with clean white cloth. Leppun glared angrily at him.

"Lemme at her, Roa! Why do you care what happens to this chick? She's garbage."

"She's had enough." He growled.

And with that, Leppun submitted, and walked away. Roa followed, not even glancing back at her. Silently, she thanked him. She didn't know how much more of that she could take. She closed her eyes and tried to think healing thoughts, while catching her breath.

It seemed only minutes had passed before she heard people approaching, and Leppun was by her side again, looking pleased. He grabbed her arm and pulled her up to his face to whisper, "Must stand up for Mr. Greed," before wrenching her to her feet. Her body almost went numb with pain, but Leppun held her up by one arm. She barely managed to keep herself vertical, and only did so by leaning heavily against the disgusting man on her left, her head sagging. Suddenly, his rough hands were replaced by gentler, softer ones, and Sage looked up into the face of the pretty, white-haired woman.

The woman smiled at her and let her fall to her knees, where she could at least hold herself up. Leppun was back by Roa, clutching his forearm in pain and glaring at the woman.

Then, the door opened and Dorchette, The Baldy, and a few other people filed in. From the midst of them came a man.

He was tall and very well built, with spiky black hair and little round sunglasses on that gave the impression of beady eyes. She wondered idly if he had stolen them from The Baldy. Why he was wearing sunglasses in such a dark building was beyond her. He had dark clothes on, and his wrists were wrapped loosely with leather bands. His left hand was being run through his hair and bore a strange tattoo. He had the air of someone in charge.

The man strode up to her and knelt down to be at her level.

"I'm Greed. Let's be friends." He drawled, grinning. Sage blinked. His teeth. They were pointed and sharp. She looked down at his hand, extended for her to shake, and looked back at him pointedly.

"Ha! Oh yeah. Cut her loose, Martel." He grinned again, waiting for her to shake.

So that was her name. Martel deftly cut through the bindings that ran all the way up her arms. It felt sooo good to be able to move them again. After flexing them and getting the blood flowing correctly, she looked back to Greed. She was already going to get herself killed, why not enjoy what she could?

So she punched Greed in the face. His glasses clattered to the floor.

Everyone in the room except for Roa and Martel went into offensive positions, drawing weapons seemingly from thin air. Greed simply held up a hand, and they relaxed, somewhat. He turned back to her, grinning still.

He had a handsome face, with a masculine jaw line and a straight nose, set off by smallish-but-nice eyes, although, they were strange.

His eyes were deep red, with a tiny slit for a pupil, a little like hers, except hers were green, and much less intimidating. She drew back from him, her face still set in a determined glare, but diluted with fear now. She didn't know this guy, or what he was capable of.

"I don't like to hit women, or else that would have cost you." He said quietly, blood on his lip. He wiped it away slowly, not taking his eyes from hers. She wished he would.

"Like I said: Let's be friends." Once more, he extended his hand to shake, but this time, it was more of a threat, or an order, than a choice. She really didn't want to shake his hand. She would rather slap him, or strangle him, or just run screaming from the place. But, like a good little hostage, she extended her hand and placed it in his much larger one. His grip was strong, and he shook it happily.

"There!" he said triumphantly. "Not so bad. Now," he said, standing. "It is my policy to never lie." He stood up straight as he said this, putting his hands on his hips. "So because you are new—"

Before he could finish his sentence, a metal hammer swung and hit him square in the head, of which half went flying, and he collapsed to the ground, dead.

Sage blanched at all the blood everywhere, and looked up to the hammer wielder. It was Roa. She stared at him a moment before saying shakily, "WH-why would you do that?! I thought you all were….together…"

In the middle of her sentence, Greed's body snapped right back up, as though it had never been on the ground, and his head was reforming around his jaw, the bone, the muscle, the tissue, everything, was zapping and just appearing in place. Soon, he was completely whole again, the only evidence he had ever been struck was the blood on his jaw and the popping sound as he realigned his neck, smirking a little. "Well that's one death," He intoned, wiping his cheek. "Although, you could make it a little less messy."

"Sorry," said Roa, not really sounding sorry.

"Anyway. So if you want to kill me, or harm me in any way, you've gotta have a pretty elaborate plan. So far, no one's succeeded." He droned, studying his nails. "But since we're friends, I don't think it'll be a problem, no?" Sage could only stare at him in horror. He smirked down at her again.

"You'll get used to it." With that he turned and began to walk out the door, gesturing with his chin for them to follow. Martel hauled Sage to her feet, and they started off after him.

Sage soon came to the discovery that she couldn't walk. Her calf still sent pain ripping through her entire leg with every movement, and her ribs groaned every time she tried to straighten up. Soon, she stumbled, one arm clutching her middle, bracing herself against a wall with the other. She cursed her own incapability, but in her entire history of fighting, she had never felt this horrible before, never been this beat-up, so she didn't know how to deal with it.

Martel tried to cover for her, but soon turned to her, whispering urgently, "Come_ on_, you've gotta get going, or Mr. Greed will be upset with both of us!" She had an accent that Sage couldn't quite place.

"I don't care! Let him get upset!" but her façade of frustration soon collapsed. "I can't, though, Martel. My leg, and him." she jutted her chin at Leppun. "I would keep going, really, but it's rather—"

A voice grumbled from ahead, "So troublesome." And boot steps headed back to them.

"What is it now, Martel." Greed griped. It wasn't a question, really. He took an appraising look at Sage with a bored expression before rolling his eyes, taking a deep breath and calling, "Leppun."

Leppun flinched visibly, but hurried to his master's side. "Y-yes, sir."

Greed smiled somewhat appreciatively. "Is this your handiwork?"

His expression didn't look dangerous at all, more along the lines of encouraging, so Leppun smiled a little, and said, "Yeah, when she was tied up back there."

Sage glared at them with all the fearsomeness she could muster. She would not be talked about like she didn't matter, and she wouldn't be beaten up for the approval of Greed.

Greed nodded once, and before Sage could see what had happened, Leppun was doubled over, and Greed was walking away, flicking blood from his fingers like it was no big deal. Leppun leaned against the wall and glowered at her, blood dripping from his side.

"Don't touch my stuff." Greed sounded from his place at the front. And then they were off again, the pace no easier for her to handle, but now Leppun had been left behind growling threats as she hobbled past. Feeling brave, she stuck her tongue out at him. She couldn't help but wonder why Greed had defended her, though. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, as long as she didn't get totally creamed again.

After a while, and at some unseen signal, Martel steered her into one of the many rooms they passed, and shut the door behind her. It was a small room, but it had a few blankets in one corner and a flickering light fixed haphazardly to the ceiling. She supposed this was where she would be staying for an indefinite amount of time. At least she could stop moving and take a look at herself.

"So uh…this is your room, now. The uh, the bathroom is down that way," she gestured to the left. "But I'm pretty sure a guard will be close by if you try anything."

She stood there for another awkward moment, and then turned to the door, but Sage called her back.

"Martel, is it okay if I call you that?"

She nodded, smiling a little.

"Martel, um, why am I here?"

"Well, mainly because _we_ aren't supposed to be. This is a secret complex, underground. If you get out, so will our secret. That's all you need to know." She hadn't said it to be mean, but it was apparent that she wasn't going to say anything else about where exactly she was.

"And um…why did Greed do that to the guy that beat me up?"

Martel looked at her for a long moment, and Sage couldn't read her expression. "Let's get something clear. _Mr._ Greed doesn't care about you or your well-being, and never will. It's like he said, you're his 'stuff' now. You belong to him whether you like it or not, and if he wants you beaten he'll do it himself. Don't go getting ideas that you're special. Mr. Greed will do whatever he pleases with you, and when he's done, he'll dispose of you. I know this isn't what you are accustomed to, but you're going to have to tone down the aggressiveness if you want to survive for very long down here." She paused. "But I must say: I admire your courage. It takes a lot to show what you did in the face of the unknown. You got guts."

With that, she smiled once more, and was gone.

Sage scooted back against the dingy wall, seeing her situation in a whole new light. Her escape was hopeless, with this level of guards and security. She was a captive, a piece of property now. The man in charge cared only for himself and was only interested in bettering his situation. If she was useful—she shuddered at what that might mean—she was safe. But when she ceased being of use…

One thing was certain: she wasn't getting out of here alive.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: **OH MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS. i am sooo sooo terribly sorry for the lateness of the update. i know it has been like, 3 months...okay, maybe 2 or something, but Thousands of apologies. I went on vacation for a month, and when i got back I was so incredibly busy that i haven't had much time to write! i know this one doesn't flow as well, but i am still getting back into the swing of the thing. Also, i know there isn't much of a plot, and we haven't seen much of Greed, but don't you fret none, excitements are coming! and with that promise of better things to come, i give you...:

Chapter 3

After a miserable first night of panicking and feeling sorry for herself, Sage woke feeling depressed and sick. Her leg was throbbing steadily, and it felt like it would explode, there was so much pressure behind the wound. She felt restless and exhausted, hot and cold, on and off, so she knew she had a fever.

She knew it. She was on her way to a premature death!

Then Sage mentally slapped herself. "Of course I'll get out!" she thought. "I mean after all…..no, never mind, there is no after all. But I _will_ get out."

She gritted her teeth. How hard could it be? Heck, there probably wasn't anyone outside her door, even. The more she thought about it, the better it sounded to just get up and go. No one would expect it. No one would be looking out for a beat up, hungry, filthy girl. She smiled to herself. Wouldn't she love to see the looks on their faces when they opened her door and she was gone? She almost laughed. It was so simple!

Feeling proud and smug, she promptly stood up. And almost sat right back down.

Her leg screamed at her, reminding her of her injuries and condition, and punished her for these foolish fancies by sending waves of agony up and down her lower body. All her happy dreams of escape evaporated like fog before the sun. Maybe it wouldn't be quite so easy. She almost sat down again.

But didn't. She was determined to escape. She would. She would run away right under their ugly, mean noses. And then laugh as she sauntered through the streets, free again. She took a deep breath and limped for the door, doing her best to shut out the pain.

Opening the door, she peeked into the dark corridor. She couldn't see far in either direction, but she couldn't hear anyone either, so, taking a steadying breath, she stepped out, bracing herself for someone shouting a warning. But nothing came.

Sage smiled to herself. This was going much easier than she had expected. She crept along the hall, trying to stay in the darkest areas. Not that there were any light areas to stay away from.

She had gone about 5 steps when she realized she didn't know where she was going. She didn't even know how to get back to the room she had woken up in. She paused and cursed under her breath. She should have thought more about this escapade! Now she was stuck here: her pride wouldn't let her go back.

So she just continued on. When she came to a fork, she decided to rely on her, ah, "intuition". Not that she even knew what that meant, but it sounded like a good idea.

Also, there were voices coming from the other direction.

And so she went, dodging imaginary shadows and slinking along, going who knows where. Hopefully, out.

She thought she was doing pretty well, when a hand suddenly fisted in her hair and yanked her backwards onto a knee in an attempt to knock her out.

Unfortunately for Sage, it didn't work.

She was dropped to the suddenly-very-hard ground, thought to be K.O.'d, and groaned pitifully. Her head was throbbing, and she was sure her skull had been crushed, and half expected to feel her brains when she moved her hands up to hold her head. Why oh WHY hadn't they knocked her out?! She now had the worst headache in the history of forever!

A voice she didn't recognize said "Psh! Idiot. It's like this."

Something whacked the base of her skull, and blessed darkness ensued.

When she came to, she immediately wished she hadn't. Her head still ached like…like…she didn't even know what. There wasn't a simile for this kind of pain. Why did they knock her out again? Cuz she tried to escape. Why did she try to escape again? Cuz she was somewhere she didn't want to be. Why was she even here? Cuz…

She opened her eyes sharply.

Because of Luke. This was all Luke's fault, wasn't it? She wouldn't be in this mess if not for him. She ground her teeth together in frustration. How many times had she told him not to come in her, it was dangerous? That something bad would eventually happen to him if he went too far. She slammed her palm against the ground angrily. Stupid, stupid kid. It was entirely his fault! Why couldn't he have listened to her? Now she was stuck here, and she'd never see the light of day again. She'd never see him again, either. _He must feel pretty guilty_, she realized, suddenly.

"Well then he shouldn't have gone in there! Here…wherever it was I told him not to go!" she sad out loud, and then sighed, grimacing at the sharp ache in her head. She took deep, steadying breaths. No matter whose fault it was, she was indeed stuck here.

She would just sit here, hungry as hell, cold, in pain, miserable. She didn't even know how long she had been in here. What remained of her body clock was so off, with no sunlight, no real nighttime, and with her being knocked out half the time, and for who knows how long each time.

Now that she knew she couldn't, she wanted to be outside so badly it hurt. She sighed, dropping her head gently into her hands, and closed her eyes, trying to remember the breeze. Maybe if she concentrated on the exact sensation of it, she could feel it again. Frowning, she tried to think of it, to remember the last time she felt it. It was like…cool fingers brushing her hair from her face. It was like…when her mother used to play with her hair. Yes, yes,

it was coming back. She could just barely feel it, but it was there. A little more…it was like diving into water and everything feels fresh and relaxed. A little more…

A loud pounding shattered her nearly tangible fake breeze and caused her head to pound again. Her eyes blinked open, and she glared at the door.

"What?" she snapped hoarsely.

The door opened just a crack, and a bowl clattered across the floor before the door slammed shut again, making her wince. Sage hadn't even seen who had given it to her. Maybe it was food! She was suddenly aware of her ravening hunger, and her stomach growled in agreement. She looked at the bowl warily for a moment, before scooting across the grimy floor to it, dragging her leg behind her.

Inside, there was evidence of food having once been there. Now it was scraped empty, having been eaten. A smiley face with angry eyebrows and a moustache had been drawn in the residue at the bottom, and the words: "bettr luk nxt time". Leppun.

Sure enough, there was snickering out side the door, and she rolled her eyes. How immature. She snatched up the bowl and struggled to heave herself up, and, taking great effort, stepped to the door, throwing it open.

He was sitting against the wall, he and two other men, one scrawny, one heavy. Without warning, she hurled the bowl at his head with all her strength. It struck with a satisfying _KTHUNK!_ Before falling to the floor in 5 pieces.

"I think that's yours." She muttered, and turned on her heel back to her room, but not before catching a glimpse of Greed standing about 10 feet away, an amused smirk on his face. Sage blushed furiously and slammed her door behind her, regretting it instantly. She leaned against it, breathing hard, trying to ease the piercing ache in her head, and certain that that stunt would cost her. Suddenly, muffled voices sounded outside.

There was labored breathing, and a deep-ish voice drawled, "Calm down, you were asking for it."

"Did you SEE what she just DID TO ME?!" Leppun's voice was unnervingly close, coming from right behind where she leaned on the door. Sage shuddered.

"Absolutely. It's about time somebody did that to you." She could hear a smile behind the voice.

A growl was the reply, and she didn't like the sound of it. It sounded inhuman and fierce.

After a moment, the voice belonging to Greed said "I almost wish I had let you get her, because then I could kill you myself." His voice still held that smile, but was cold and threatening, and if he had been speaking to her, she would have wanted to run away from him. Several pairs of footsteps and the labored breathing then walked swiftly away, and she wondered if the hallway was empty once again.

She heard no more noises, so she let out the breath she had been holding. She had already pushed her limits by trying to escape, and now she was throwing bowls at people's heads! How immature. She wouldn't be surprised if they tied her up again or brought out whips or something. Did they still make those? The good old beating whips? Not the other kind?

Regardless, she had gone way too far, and even though it pained (ha, the irony) her to comply and/or be obedient, if she wanted to stay alive long enough to get herself out of here, she had to give a little.

She dropped her head in her hands again, and tried to reason with herself. She wasn't going to stop trying to escape. She wouldn't go that far. But she would _try_ to be nice to people and not attack them. As long as they didn't provoke her. That was reasonable, right?

She massaged her temples, sighing to herself again. How stupid she had been. Trying to just waltz out of a secure, underground facility. How stupid stupid stupid! Gritting her teeth together and frowning, she tried to think of how she could make a more effective attempt. One that was well thought out and planned. Thinking about it made her head pound horribly, so she closed her eyes and rested her head against the door behind her.

She was so terribly miserable. And she had brought it all upon herself. She had fought with the thugs instead of reasoning diplomatically, like a smart person would have. She had provoked a cruel enemy and gotten herself doubly beaten to a pulp. She had tried to escape, and earned a killer headache. And now, apparently, she had a death wish. For throwing a bowl at said enemy's head.

She didn't even want to think about what Greed would do if she pushed him too far. Remembering the sight of him casually flicking Leppun's blood from his fingers gave her goose bumps. Everything from his red, demonic eyes, to his sharp teeth to his intimidating physique unnerved her. She definitely wanted to stay out of his way.

Martel was the only one who hadn't shown any aggression towards her. Roa had stood up for her, but she definitely hadn't deserved it. After all, she had bitten him like some kind of vampire, and now he was helping her out like nosy little brats bit him every day.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door behind her, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from yelping in surprise. She scrambled away from the door painfully, and pressed her back against the far wall. Sage was startled and didn't know what she should say. Should she say 'come in'? It was technically her room. Should she say 'what is it?' That might sound prissy and pouty. The knock came again, louder this time, and she ended up with a tiny "Yes?"

The door opened and Roa shouldered his way in. Speak of the devil. The room seemed much smaller with him in it. He was holding a bowl and some white cloth. After a moment of silence, he sat down unceremoniously in front of her and held out a meaty hand. She looked at him for an awkward minute, not sure what he wanted.

"Do you want to lose that leg?" he rumbled. She blinked, then shifted so she could move it with the least amount of pain, and gently set her leg in his hand, fighting back a grimace.

He set it in his lap and began swiftly unlacing her boot, sending painful throbs jolting into her nerves. Before she knew it, he was pulling it—surprisingly gently—from her foot, and tossing it to the side. She winced when she looked at the wound. There was drying blood all over her leg, and it was swollen and a nasty, mottled pale color. He promptly turned her leg uncomfortably to the side so he could get a better look at it. She huffed to herself indignantly.

"Do you know what your doing?" she asked hesitantly, not sure she wanted to surrender her leg to this moose.

He glared at her without lifting his head from his examination. "I was in the army for several years. I think I can bandage a flesh wound." He said sarcastically. She frowned. _Excuuuse me._ She thought snippily to herself. Soon, she had to bite her lip and turn her face away, fighting back grimaces. He had begun cleaning it roughly. Well, at least it felt rough. He knew what he was doing, and it didn't exactly feel good. In no time he whipped out some rolls of clean white cloth and began efficiently wrapping her leg. She had to admit he was good at it as he finished quickly, tucking the end of the bandage into itself. He put his hands on his knees and jutted his chin at the newly bandaged appendage. She started, and obediently rolled her foot around. She almost smiled to herself. It already felt much better—still very sore—but worlds better than what it had been.

"Thank you." She said sincerely, as she perused his handiwork. It was snug and not uncomfortable. He grunted and was about to push himself up when he caught sight of her tattered and blood spattered clothes. He hesitated for a moment before settling back down and asking brusquely, "Would you like me to take a look at those?"

She looked down at her scraped, tired hands and thought it over. She was still in a great deal of pain, lessened now, but still.

"S-sure. I mean, if it's ah…not too much trouble." She was ashamed at how small her voice sounded. She didn't know why she was still afraid. She was in no danger.

That she knew of.

Roa, however, wasted no time. He moved over to her head, and took her face in his hands. More like swallowed her face in his hands. He could grab her face and crush it if he wanted to. He must have felt her tense up, because he sighed, and dropped his hands.

"Look. If I wanted to kill you I wouldn't have fixed you up. Alright? Calm down. Mr. Greed probably has plans for you." He left it at that, and for some reason, Sage felt more uneasy than before he had said that.

He took her face again, and began gently prodding it here and there, asking a question now and then such as, "how bad does this hurt?" or "if I press here, what do you feel?"

He ended up taping some little stickies over the gashes in her cheekbone, and securing a gauze patch to her forehead, before moving to her shoulder, which he deemed to be fine, just badly scraped and bruised. Then he abruptly lifted her shirt and took a look at her ribs.

Surprisingly, she didn't think it was that awkward.

He winced a bit, before poking at it, making her flinch. After a moment, he stated, "Dorchette must have clipped you. Looks slightly deep, but not dangerous. You may need stitches though."

Sage was confused. "Why would I need stitches for this and not my leg?"

"You do need stitches for your leg. But not now. It's infected, so once the swelling and the infection die down, we'll take care of that. This one is not infected, so it can be taken care of." He said this like it was something she should already know.

She frowned at him again, but he didn't seem to notice.

"So what, are you just gonna whip out some thread and sew me up?"

"Yes."

She blinked. "Oh."

"But not here."

"What?"

"I said but not here."

"Tch. I heard you. I mean where."

He said nothing, only stood and pulled her up with him. She grew flustered, and didn't know what to expect, but he had fixed her up everywhere else, so she figured she could follow him and not be afraid for her life.

He led her from the room and headed down the hallway that Sage knew all too well. She found she could walk much easier already, but still not as fast as he was going. Try as she might, she soon fell behind, and though she was loath to admit it, she called out, "R-Roa. Wait a minute, I can't keep up."

He paused, turned and looked at her, seeming to radiate impatience. Although, he did proceed more slowly once they got started again.

Soon he ducked into a room to the left, and Sage followed uneasily. Inside, she had to shut her eyes against the harsh light. Once they adjusted, she saw two large white tables and several shelves and a locked cabinet. There was an adjacent room, through the doorway of which she could see a few beds. She didn't have time to examine that room before Roa gestured for her to sit on the table nearest them. She shyly complied, placing her hands on the edge behind her and boosting her rear end up and over onto the smooth, flat surface.

Roa turned to one of the cabinet/counters and began pulling things from the shelves and stirring some sort of solution, so Sage gripped the edge of the table and said nothing, swinging her feet lightly.

There was a stirring in the other room, and an all too familiar voice called out, "Roa, how much longer do I have to hold this damn—" he broke off abruptly, and Sage whipped around.

Leppun stood in the doorway of the bed room, a large lump of some evil-looking something held to one side of his head. His eyes widened, but soon narrowed to tiny, furious slits. The muscle and sinew under his skin began to roil and twitch, and he crouched down a bit.

"What is _this bitch_ doing here?" he seethed. Sage almost fell off the table, alarmed at his ferocity.

Roa turned and walked slowly over to the vicious man across the room.

"She is gonna _get it!!_ Ya hear that, bitch!? YOU'RE DEAD MEAT!" With every word, his voice had gone more and more inhuman and unnatural sounding. Like a hiss or a snarl. His muscles jumped and twisted, his veins popped, and his hands began to shift before her eyes. The fingers elongated and grew spikes at the knuckles and claws from the nail-beds, the arms growing white and cracked-looking. His teeth stretched into a row of fangs and his tongue, lashing between his lips, was forked.

Sage's eyes widened in horror, and she shrank away from him. It wasn't even a _him_ anymore, it was a creature. And though she cursed her constant cowardice, she couldn't help but want—with all her heart—to flee. Automatically, she tensed, ready to take off, but Roa held a hand out, telling her to stay where she was. Sage didn't know how she did it, but she stayed.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Leppun was scrambling over one table, flailing like a wild animal, and Roa was grabbing him, hurling him away. His body struck the wall solidly, and Sage caught sight of a tail waving behind him as he struggled to his feet.

He lunged again, but Roa was ready again, and soon had him contained, holding his arms painfully wrenched behind him and dragging him across and out of the room.

There were some thudding sounds, then some sounds of cloth being torn, and Roa returned, looking as if nothing had happened.

Sage, however, was still pressed against the wall, tense and trembling. Her breathing was fast and shallow, and her jaw was clamped painfully tight.

Roa smirked. "If you were a cat your tail would be ten times bigger than you. No pun intended."

Sage blinked hard, and forced herself to relax, peeling herself from the wall and taking deep breaths.

Roa chuckled deep in his chest before asking, "What'd you think of your first fight witnessed under here?"

She swallowed before laughing uneasily, "Pretty intense."

Still smiling, Roa patted the table and turned back to his cabinets.

Sage hoisted herself up once more, this time facing the bed room, her spine still prickling. People—or whatever—weren't natural here. They were insanely strong, unstable, and, though she was loathe to admit it, frightening. It was luck she had survived here for so long. Maybe she was overreacting. But her feelings of apprehension towards everyone else in this godforsaken place were only growing. She wanted to curl up and cry. She wanted to kill herself. She just wanted to be outside. No, she wanted to be free.

Sage took another steadying breath. No matter how terrifying this place was, or how threatening Leppun grew, she would escape. She would.

Now she just had to tell herself that until she believed it.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello dearest readers! there are no words to express my shame and remorse on the subject of my updates. i am so terribly sorry. I have failed you all :( **

**THAT BEING SAID. I have something else to say, something i hope no one will take offense to. I have recieved some comments that included the direction in which some readers thought the story should go. May I calmly and with good intentions remind you that I AM THE AUTHOR. I KNOW WHAT IM WRITING. I KNOW WHERE THE STORY IS GOING. EVERYTHING WILL FALL INTO PLACE. :) I say that with much love and gratitude that you all are my fans. Please forgive me for my tardiness and I promise many more chapters very soon. MUCH LOVE**

Chapter 4

If Sage learned anything in the days she spent wasting away in her cell of a room, it was tact.

If she wanted to escape, she couldn't go attempting it in the most obvious or risky ways. She had to know her way around and who was who and the like. Her reconnaissance work went agonizingly slowly, but little by little, she found who happened by her room most often, and where they were going:

Apparently, there was some sort of establishment being run on the ground level, and that was how her captors traded for food, money, supplies, and weapons. There was also something of a smuggling business going on, but Sage didn't spend much energy on this information. People didn't go by the room much because it was not on direct route from the establishment to the store rooms or whatever it was that was down here. This didn't stop people from passing by her room often enough, as they were supposed to stop by on occasion and make sure she hadn't gotten brave overnight.

She was very careful to act like she had gotten docile in a hurry, and was afraid of making anyone angry. She did what people asked and played quiet. This way, she was able to figure out names and faces, but not much else. It was frustrating, and the frustration only fed the need to get out, the need to fight back, the need to make their lives as miserable as they were making hers.

After about a week of this maddening quiet, and her injuries were fading, there was a knock on her door. This wasn't terribly unusual, only that when the door opened, it was Martel at the door, and not one of the others. Sage hadn't seen her since that last conversation in her room, and was immensely happy to see another friendly face.

Sage gave a lopsided smile from where she sat on the floor. Martel smiled back sadly, and crouched down next to her.

"You look like shit, hun."

Sage blinked in surprise, and then felt her face flush with heat. She hadn't given her appearance much thought these days, but now that she thought about it, she must indeed look like shit. Her hair was probably ratty and greasy, her face tear streaked and grimy, her clothes torn and bloodied, all of her covered with a layer of sweat and filth.

Before she could dig herself too deep in embarrassment, Martel, took her by the hand and hauled her up and out of the room.

"So I never caught your name…" she said as she led the way down the dark hall.

"S-Sage."

Martel glanced back at her and smiled a little. "That's a nice name."

"Thank you. Where are we going…"

"The bathroom."

"I thought it was back that way," Sage said, hesitating.

"Not the one you need, toots." Martel said with a laugh.

Sage didn't think it was all that funny. She concentrated very hard on the turns they took and the doors they passed.

Before long they came to a large room with 4 showers and 6 sinks, with blue and white tiles on the floor and fluffy white towels piled on a small glass table. It was rather a nice shower room, an unexpected surprise down in these dungeons.

Martel gestured to one of the showers and gave her a bit of sand soap.

Sage paused, catching a glimpse of herself in a mirror. She looked tragic, but not as bad as she had imagined herself to look. Mostly she just looked tough, like she could throttle anything the world threw at her.

Maybe she shouldn't get a shower, she thought with a smile.

"do you want….um…" Martel began.

"what?" Sage prodded.

"Well, your clothes…did you want to keep them? im sure I can dig something else up for you if you didn't…but if you did I could wash them—"

Sage laughed. "No its okay you can throw them away. Except the jacket. And the boots. Their good boots."

Martel eyed them. "I guess, haha. Okay when you get finished I will have some fresh clothes for you." with that, she smiled brightly, and left Sage alone with the soap and her filth.

Turning on the water to let it get warm, she peeled off her clothes and let her hair down from its messy pony-tail. Her ribs stuck out more prominently then they had in a while, and her breath came with a slight wheeze. Her bruises looked ghastly in the fluorescent lights. There were dark smudges under her eyes and a paleness about her lips that made her look sickly and sallow.

But now…there was a certain…hardness in her almond shaped eyes and a fierceness in the set of her jaw. Something brought on from all the defiance and pain she was going through. From the unhealthy state of her body to the new changes in demeanor, she almost didn't recognize herself.

She abruptly turned away and stepped into the stream of water. A shower, though slightly painful, was such a delicious feeling, a feeling she had almost forgotten, after a long time in public bathhouses or rivers. Layers of dirt slid from her skin and down the drain, and as she stepped out of the stall, she had the distinct feeling of having lost five pounds.

Peeking around the corner, she saw that one of the other showers was on, and steam was billowing from the top. Seeing a neat pile of clothes next to the sink close to it, she assumed it was Martel, and that the clothes were meant for Sage. Wrapping a towel around herself, she padded over to the clothes, leaving a trail of wet footprints.

Crouching next to the clothes, she rifled through them…and found a dark colored t-shirt, black pants, some leather bands… Sage frowned. They all seemed like they would be far too big for her. Alas, beggars couldn't be choosers. She picked up the shirt and the leather wrist bands and studied them. The bands were meant to be wrapped loosely, she could tell, and they had simple but well crafted designs engraved in the worn leather. The more she examined them, the more she thought that they looked familiar…

The shower water cut off then, and Sage froze with recognition as her minds eye saw a leather bound wrist with an odd tattoo being run through short black hair.

She whirled around, hastily dropping the bands, at the same moment the curtain was shoved aside.

Greed had a towel slung carelessly about his hips, thank God, but that didn't make the situation any less awkward or frightening for her. His hair was tousled and wet, and he had a slight hint of stubble along his jaw. He blinked in surprise, and then that grin slid across his face again, and he raised an eyebrow as he sneered down at her, standing before him, with his shirt still in her hands. His strange red eyes slid up her legs and over her curves in an arrogant way that made anger and shame coil in her belly. It was all she could do to remain upright as she shook and gaped like a fish, opening and closing her mouth as she struggled for something to say. Her heart was pounding so strongly she could feel each pulse in her neck and hear it in her ears.

He stepped out of the shower and his mouth twitched as he nodded to her hands.

"I take it you like my shirt? Well. I like yours too." He drawled in that condescending way of his. Her cheeks burned as she realized that she had only a towel on and was dripping wet, at that.

"I—I, I just um—I thought it was—" she broke their gaze, but made the mistake of looking down, at his bare torso, and that only made her blush deepen.

"Relax, you can have it if it means that much to you." he smirked, and she realized she was clutching the shirt tightly to her chest. She didn't want his blasted shirt!

Just when she thought she would DIE of humiliation, Martel walked in, and with a gasp of horror, whisked Sage away, glaring at Greed.

"Mr. Greed, you should be ashamed!" she hissed, and Sage had the miniscule satisfaction of seeing him look a tad taken aback, although the cursed leer never left his face.

Martel steered her out of the bathroom and into the room adjacent it in a hurry, shoving some clothes in to Sage's hands.

"I'm not going to ask what happened, because I don't want to know. But I will tell you this. Do NOT. Let that happen again, do you hear me?"

Sage nodded, but Martel lit into her again.

"You can't just waltz around like you own the place! There are rules! Greed is more powerful than you can even IMAGINE and here you are—taking his shirt, for Pete's Sake!"

"I didn't—"

"I said I didn't want to know! I already told you that you are not anything special, and I meant it. You are a hostage, so act like it." she paused now and rubbed her forehead. "I didn't mean to be harsh with you Sage. I am just surprised and I know how much you like to make trouble for yourself." She smiled here and touched Sage's cheek. "Get dressed. I know you know how to find your way back."

Sage stayed still for a while, thinking about Martel's last words. So she could tell what Sage was doing? Trying to find a new way to get out of here? She didn't know what to think about that.

As she dressed, her initial anger at the tirade dissipated, and was replaced with uneasiness and raw mortification. All she could think about was his muscles sliding smoothly under his skin when he stepped towards her, and the unbearable feeling that although she had been wearing a towel, he had seen what was under there with his mind.

Her cheeks still burned, and she felt helpless anger at him for having looked at her that way. Did he think he was allowed to do that? That she was just some trick that he could feel up with his eyes? That he owned her in some way?

Her thoughts stopped cold. He did own her. From what she had heard, he was the essence of insatiability, and he could use her whenever he wanted to. Goose bumps pricked her arms and her shoulders became tense at the thought. She was his "stuff". That was all.

Sage's head fell into her hands, and she shut her eyes against the horror, dread, and self pity that were ebbing at her resolve. How had she gotten herself into this? How was she ever going to get away? She had a sinking feeling in the back of her mind that it was hopeless.

Opening her eyes, she saw the infamous dark grey shirt at her feet, and stared at it a moment before snatching it up. Despite the fact that it brought on fresh waves of degradation, she may need it later. Who knew when she may need a clean shirt? And it may be possible to spite him with it. There were endless possibilities, she told herself. That's why she was taking it. It had nothing to do with how it smelled or that it had rested on a perfect set of pecs and abs. That would be ridiculous.

She balled the shirt up in her old jacket and stepped out the door in some slightly large cast-off pants and what she assumed was a tank top of Martel's, along with an only vaguely besmirched green zip up hoodie. With a hasty glance behind her, she scurried quietly down the hall way, feeling for some reason like a culpable child.

Carefully, she made her way back to where she believed her room should be, looking absently down each corridor she passed until the area began to look more familiar. She was taking a fleeting look behind her when she ran smack into a body, a body that instantly grabbed her shoulders with an uncomfortably tight grip.

"Well, well. Little kitty looks a bit lost. And we all know that kitties don't last long on their own." Leppun crooned a barely controlled snarl on his face.

Terrified after what she had seen of him in the medical room, she forced her voice to sound defiant as she growled "Let me pass, Leppun."

"Oh! Is the pretty kitty angry? Too bad Roa's not here to help you, and Greed isn't here to claim you. It's just me…and you…" he hissed in his oily voice as he dug his lengthening nails into her arms.

Fear leaked into her eyes, and he saw it, and he liked it.

Seeing the delight in his eyes as he bared his teeth at her fed her disgust and gave her the fuel she needed. Her own nails slid out and her lip curled. She snapped her hands up to his throat, resting them lightly, but threateningly on his jugular.

"Let. Me. Pass." She ground the words through her teeth, and she saw a satisfying shock pass over his face, but only briefly.

He became frightening in less than a second, his teeth elongating and his eyebrows arching unnaturally, a grimace of fury distorting his features. "You'll _pay _for thisss, _bitchhh. _You'll pay withhh your _hide. _I can promissse you that." The tendons began to bulge and twist in his neck, and she withdrew her hand as if he had stung her. He rolled his neck, causing it to pop and groan, and she bolted before she saw anything else.

In the safety of her room, she shut the door and leaned against it, the reality of what she had done sinking in. She had threatened her biggest enemy. …and gotten away with it. She had actually scared him! Flexing her shrinking claws, she ignored the voice in the back of her head that warned her of getting too cocky, and reminded her that he had scared her first, and she had only fueled the fire that powered the monster.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Im so sorry it is short, and late, and pretty rough, but i have been super busy, and also had a terrible case of writers block. I Know what i want to happen next, but i didnt know how to get there, and this is my poor excuse for a solution. terribly sorry, please dont post a mean review. Another chapter-a much better one-will be up soon. so without further adieu, voila. Sorry again. please give a constructive comment if you have one.**

**okay im done, here you go**

Chapter 5

A few days later, still closeted in her cell, Sage studied the nondescript dark cloth in her hands yet again, running her hands over it and pressing it to her nose. It smelled so…masculine. Not like he wore a cloud of cologne or bathed in aftershave, it was just a natural male scent. The thing itself was just…so…him. She smiled to herself, and allowed herself to think about him for a moment.

He was handsome enough, and he had an undisputable air of authority about him that, while tangible, was not stifling. His perpetual smirk was frustrating, but it looked so right on his face that she couldn't complain. He definitely seemed dangerous, and obviously reveled in the fact. His wore this confidence easily, and it was not unattractive.

Speaking of attraction, the smooth contours of his chest and abs rose unbidden to her mind, and she blushed and tried to shove them away, but with the effort came the image of his chiseled arms and how the tendon in his neck shifted as he moved his chin. Her chest began to flutter with warmth, and her heart began skipping as the images flashed again.

A knock on the door startled her half out of her wits, but she thanked God for it, as it broke her chain of thoughts. The door opened just as she stuffed Greed's shirt under her pillow, and Martel stepped inside. She raised an eyebrow and Sage's flushed state, but didn't say anything about it. Sage wished she would.

"Mr. Greed said that you've been sitting around doing nothing for long enough, and that I can show you the bar front now. Don't get any ideas, it's heavily guarded and if you scream or some shit we'll just kill you." she said brusquely.

Sage was a bit taken aback. It must have showed on her face, because Martel gave a small smile and said "I'm just giving you a hard time. We probably won't need to kill you. I'm just saying, don't try anything funny. We are trusting you here."

Sage nodded eagerly and scrambled to her feet. She was desperate for any sort of a chance to get out of her cell and see something more. After about two weeks of nothingness she was shocked that insanity hadn't set in.

After a series of (carefully memorized) twists and turns, they reached a ladder. Martel explained that there were official stairs and an actual door to get in, but this way was just more convenient.

She ascended the ladder smoothly and at the top, she pushed up at a seam in the ceiling and it lifted. She disappeared through it, and a hand popped back down to beckon Sage upward. Excitedly, Sage clambered up and poked her head through the ceiling.

Above the door in the ceiling—now the floor—was a tidy bar front. They were in a small, dark room that hadn't yet legitimately joined the bar. They were looking through a doorway, which had a straight shot to the door leading outside.

Sage's breath caught. She could actually see the sunlight, the fresh air. She could almost hear the bustle of people and the twitter of birds. Her heart soared with her fantasies of stepping into that delicious sunlight, of tasting the caressing breeze, of—

"Ay, Snap out of it, Sage." Martel snapped. "I don't want to have to report you, or hurt you, you know what I mean?" With that, she stepped out of the trap door and into the room, beckoning Sage after her. Sage couldn't help but feel a little part of her die as her vision shattered.

The bar was fairly large, but simple. It looked well stocked and funded, and well used at that. The roughly cut wooden tables were worn smooth, and the booths and chairs had threadbare patches from so many bums being sat in them. Mayumi smiled. This looked like a place she would have liked, if she were free.

Martel grinned at her reaction and asked "So what do you think? Like it?"

Sage gave a lopsided grin. "Yeah, it's a nice place. Not what I expected, not at all."

Martel laughed. "Did you expect some sort of brothel? Maybe a guild of assassins? Or maybe a drug house?"

Sage gave her a friendly push. "I don't know what I expected." she lied. They spent a while getting Sage familiar with the bar front, and showing her how to clean and sweep and how to mop up a spilled drink from the wood floor. Sage felt her spirits rising with every breath of the fresh air wafting through the open windows and door. If she squinted her eyes and tilted her head—figuratively—she could almost pretend she was free, and had a real job, and was making real friends. A sharp word from behind her splintered that dream too.

"What is she doing up here?" Dorchette barked.

"Don't get your panties in a wad," Martel rolled her eyes. "Mister Greed told me to get her off her lazy ass and put her to work. No offense." She added in an aside to Sage. Sage smiled but gritted her teeth.

Lazy ass? It wasn't her fault that she was trapped in a dungeon, wasting away! He had put her there in the first place! Why she oughta…

"Well, it's almost opening time." Dorchette growled. "Get her back down in her cell. Er, room." He amended.

Sage glared at him as she passed, and he feinted a lunge at her. Martel rolled her eyes again as she followed Sage down the ladder and muttered under her breath.

Too soon, the door of her "cell" was being shut behind her once more, and the stale, recycled air filled her lungs.

To have been so close to freedom, to have smelled the bright daylight, to have felt the flavors of the wind, and then be shoved back down into the grime… She was starved for the freshness of the world above, for anything fresh. Once more, doom fell onto her shoulders, and she sunk down to her knees and cried.

Several hours later, she was twirling her hair around her fingers, thinking, and she felt again the greasy build up in her tawny locks. She wanted a shower, but he body clock told her it was the middle of the night, and if she were caught out at this time of night, it would look suspicious. So she decided against it.

Alas, about 30 minutes later, the feminine side of her won, and she was collecting some of the clothes Martel had graciously given her the other day, and peering out of her room at the darkened corridor. Adrenaline pumped into her veins, and she thought of what might happen if she fell into the wrong hands…in the middle of the night, with no one around to save her… she dismissed these thoughts. Everyone in their right mind was probably asleep.

That didn't keep her from tip toeing at a much faster pace on her way to the showers. Inside the room, it was brightly lit and warm from the steam of luxuriously hot water. Instantly, Sage relaxed. She padded over to a mirror, and was sadly disappointed in her reflection. She had expected it to look miles better than it had, but she still had circles under her eyes, and her cheekbones stuck out, and now, her bruises were a sickly yellow, and it made her look diseased. Her shoulders slumped. She didn't know what she had wanted. Maybe she wanted to look pretty, or ruggedly sexy, but not haggard and tired. She looked old.

She sighed roughly, and scratched the back of her neck—it prickled. She felt uneasy, but that was probably because of her reflections dull gaze. She removed her shirt, and prodded her long puckered cut. It was sore, but healing well. Ugh. Unfortunately, "healing well" meant that her abdomen was graced with a grubby looking scab that was flaking and itchy. Gross. Her neck prickled again and she rubbed it, undoing the button of her pants. Then she stopped, and slowly turned around.

"My, my, we _do_ like to run into each other, don't we?" Greed inflected. He had the blasted smirk again, and was leaning casually against the door frame, towel slung over one shoulder, fresh clothes in his chorded arms.

The blood first drained, and then flooded her face, and she realized how retarded she had been. He must have been standing there for a good while, 5 minutes at least, while she poked and primped herself, sighing girlishly at her wasted reflection.

His smirk deepened as he saw her blush. "Hm. Don't talk much, do ya? S'okay, I have that effect on people sometimes. You should get that cut looked at." He dragged, scratching absently at his tummy. His eyes weren't on the cut as he said it.

Shame pierced her, and before she knew what she was doing, she snatched a toothbrush from the sink before her and hurled it at him with all her might. He didn't expect it and it struck him on his forehead.

"OW! Hey! What the hell was—"

"GET OUT!" Sage yelled, anguished. Greed "Psh-ed."

"You can't tell me to get out. I uh, I own the place. You gonna get a shower?" he had recovered infuriatingly smoothly.

"GET! OUUUT!" she said again, blind with humiliation at her half naked state, at her childish rage, at her un-suave mannerisms compared to him. He was about to say something, but she barreled past him, and down the hallway into darkness.

She was almost to her room when rough hands grabbed her and pulled her in the opposite direction, and away.

* * *

**like i said, rough and not too great, but next one will be better**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Sage's head snapped back as a fist slammed into her jaw. She stumbled and almost fell, her head swimming. It took a moment for her to regain her senses, and for her vision to clear, and by then, her arms were locked behind her in the vise-like grip of two strong men. Blood filled her mouth, and she let it drip from her lips, too stunned to do anything about it. Blearily, she looked up, already knowing who would be standing before her.

"That felt good. Did you think so? Cuz it looked like it felt good. What about this one?" Leppun taunted before burying his fist in her stomach. She tried to brace for it, but it helped little. He was extremely strong, and she had no means of protection or defense.

She doubled over, wheezing out curses, but the men holding her straightened her up and dragged her away at some unseen signal.

By the time they reached the obscure passageway they were headed to, Sage's mind had cleared. The pain was sharpening her mind and strengthening her anger and indignation—as well as her fear of what she knew was coming.

Leppun walked calmly and superiorly to stand in front of her, flexing his wrist and wiggling his fingers into a studded glove. "You know Bitch, we could have—" Sage took the moment to brace herself against her restrainers and swing her leg out at the man in front of her with lightning speed, just like she had done when she was captured. Leppun doubled over as her boot met his gut, and she brought her knee up hard to meet his nose, sending him flying backwards.

"Spare me the lecture, Snake." She spat.

Leppun clutched his face, and his hands came away bloody. He stared in bewilderment, and then turned to her with pure fury on his face.

Before she saw it coming, he struck her in the face, and stars exploded across her vision. He gave her no time to recover as blow after blow fell, mostly to the left side of her face, but some landed on the right. Her head was going numb with the trauma of it all, and she was aware of blood spattering the ground intermittently.

When at last he stopped, she was left with an intense, throbbing ache that pulsed from somewhere deep inside her, and her eyes refused to adjust. Images blurred together, and her ears rang loudly. Someone grasped her chin roughly and jerked her head up, and she saw a mouth moving, but no sound was coming out. To her shame, hot tears rolled down her cheeks, and her eyes began to droop. The edges of her vision were growing dark, and she was about to slip under when a sharp slap brought her back. Only then did she realize he was talking.

"…twice before you do that to me again. TO ME. You definitely picked the wrong guy to mess with, little c**t."

Anger welled up inside her, despite herself. She had never done anything to this jerk! The grip of the hand clutching her face tightened, and he was about to say something else, but before a sound passed his snarling mouth, she lunged forward and sank her teeth into his hand as hard as she could.

He bellowed in pain, a bellow that changed pitch and deepened, changed into something else. An animal howl of rage.

At last he ripped his appendage from her jaws, and she glared weakly but defiantly at him. Blood ran freely down his fingers, and was smeared across his face. A glow of smug satisfaction touched her: she was giving him a hell of a lot more trouble than he had counted on.

He met her eyes, and her happy feelings drained. He was morphing, and frighteningly so. His teeth were jagged and his face lengthened and distorted, his eyes were the same, but so much more cruel now. Dread began to leech at her resolve to make him regret this.

In an instant, the men restraining her were gone, and he was there, holding her right arm in an agonizingly tight grip, twisting it slowly, slowly to its limit…past its limit. A strangled cry broke from her, and the hot breath of a chuckle ghosted over her ear. She shuddered.

"I hate you." Leppun's voice was deep and guttural: it sounded like pure bloodlust. "You have no idea how much I hhhate you. You have no idea whhho your dealing withhh. You sssssaunter around like your ssso brave, but now look at you. Whimpering on your kneessss…"

Her arm was bent at an unnatural angle now, and Sage's vision flashed and began to fade black as the torture overtook her.

"…like a broken…" Farther. "….ssssstray…" Farther.

The end of his insult was lost as her arm was wrenched from her with a sickening popping sound. A shudder went through her, and she thought she might have screamed, and then everything went blessedly dark.

Sage was brought back to consciousness by the sensation of being dragged roughly to her feet, and forced to make a semblance of walking. She managed only to stumble a step or two before her body refused to comply and she went limp with pain.

They came to a door and she thought hazily that it was a very nice door. She would like to touch the nice door. She reached her hand out to it and it miraculously opened. There were two blankets inside. Oh! This was her room! The realization came even as she was thrown to the floor of it. Pain like none she had ever felt, not even when she first came here, shattered her to her core, and she again felt tears trail through the clotting blood on her cheeks. She had not the energy for anything more than that. She could barely roll onto her back, whining pitifully.

Slowly it all came back to her, and she bit her lip as the tears of pain, of anger, and of despair bathed her cheeks. Suddenly hands grasped her shoulders, the nails digging painfully into her skin.

Leppun brought his face scant inches from hers and hissed "Tell anyone…give any hint…and I'll kill that little human brat you call a brother." With that, he jerked her roughly, and was gone.

Sage came to and blacked out again several time, and all sense of time was out the window. Sometimes her thoughts were perfectly coherent, and sometimes even humorous, and other times she was out of her mind with hallucinations and night terrors. Things she couldn't run away from.

She was experiencing one such horror, a horror where a terrible leviathan oozing blood and screaming a stuck pig was chasing her down the halls, and she had just made it into her room, and it was pounding on the door, louder and louder, taunting her in its horrid wheezy voice, and she was expecting to wake up to sanity any second, when the door actually burst open. She shrieked and scurried away, but strong hands grabbed her and shook her back to her senses.

* * *

"Sage! Sage it's alright, it's me! You know me. Roa, it's Roa, Sage. Shh, it's not real." A pause. "Good God, what happened to you?"

Sage blinked hard and his meaty, white blonde face blurred into focus. Her head pounded with the effort and the screams, and it brought all her aches back to her. More tears were sliding down her cheeks when another shape burst through the door. Sage jerked away instinctively, but Roa held her fast.

"Roa there's blood on the floor in the southeast corridor, and I…" Martel trailed off at the sight of Sage. "What the—"

Roa held up a hand and said in an authoritative voice, "Go tell Mr. Greed that an important matter has come up. If he asks, tell him what happened, or at least what you've seen. He's not going to be happy."

Martel started to protest, but Roa sent her on her way with a stern look. After she was gone, he swiftly checked Sage over and then picked her up gingerly, carrying her quickly out of her room and before long, they had reached the clinic.

It hurt to breathe, and her eyes wouldn't work correctly. Her right arm felt like it wasn't there, but the shoulder hurt terribly. It hurt to move her jaw as well, and her face felt crusty and sticky. Try as she might, she could not stop the tears that were making tracks through the crust on her cheeks. Shame filled her. She didn't want the people she respected—Roa and Martel, or even Dorchette—to see her like this. They could have handled Leppun.

Roa didn't let her wallow any more than that. He gently probed her face, ribs, and shoulder, asking her where it hurt most, if she felt anything inner injuries, etcetera: he was all business now. He asked what happened, but Sage didn't say anything. As much as she longed to rat out her persecutor, she couldn't risk Luke: she had not doubt that he would carry out his promise.

"Well don't you remember?" Roa snapped. "Tell me who it was!"

Sage was saved from answering him, because Dorchette stepped in, muttered something to Roa, and, after a grave, piteous look at Sage, was gone.

Roa stepped over to the cabinet and fetched a needle. As he swabbed her left arm, he explained, "This is a shot of adrenaline. It should take away enough of the pain so that you can coherently explain what happened."

Sage gritted her teeth. "To who?"

"To Mr. Greed. He has called a trial to find out what happened and who is responsible."

Sage gulped. Greed was so intimidating. She didn't know if she could keep it from him. He had a way of coaxing things out of you. What if she lied and he discovered it? She didn't want to face him.

But a cool, soothing sensation flooded her body, and with it, a new resolve and determination. "Can you stand?" Roa asked.

In answer, she sat shakily up, and slid off the table to her feet, grunting with the effort. "That adrenaline should last you a good half hour. If worst comes to worst, I can slip you another one, but that isn't good for you. So try not to drag things out, okay? Come with me."

He led the way at an easier pace to a large, well lit room, with gilded framed mirrors on the walls and rough chairs scattered around. She blinked in the brightness, still trying to focus her eyes correctly. The left one was unnervingly dark, and the contrast was making her dizzy.

There were a lot of people in this room. She gulped, and before she was ready for it, two people took her from Roa's side and escorted her roughly to stand before a chair, in which Greed was seated.

She stood with a slumped posture, and would not meet his crimson eyes. She tried not to look at anyone, but caught sight of herself in a mirror. Her face was indeed crusted and seeping with blood. Her left eye was swollen. Her right shoulder was a mottled purplish grey color, the color your finger tips turn when you squeeze them too hard for too long. Her clothes were torn, her hair disheveled, her face tear streaked. Lovely. So she averted her gaze, and it fell on the crowd.

She only knew a handful of the people here. There was The Baldy, there was Martel, Dorchette, Roa. There was the guy who smiled to her when they passed in the hallways. There was the cook. There were the two men who had held her while Leppun beat her.

There was Leppun. He smirked in a satisfied way. The sight of him ignited such an indignation in her, and an anger began to grow. He smirked, but the smirk faltered when he saw her eyes darken.

A deep voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Speak." The drawl was gone, and it was icy, not normal Greed voice. Sage's gaze snapped back to the chair before her, and met his red eyes. They looked murderous. Sage was taken aback, and she averted her eyes again.

"If you have half the brains I think you do, you will speak now." Again, the coldness unnerved her, and she didn't know what to say, even if she would have spoken. So she simply raised her eyes and looked into his, and softly rasped, "I can't."

"You _can't?_" he barked. He pursed his lips and mulled this over. "I see."

He stood, and she flinched, but he merely began taking slow, commanding steps around Sage, and then across the room, saying "She can't. So. Could anyone tell me why this could be? Why this little hostage thinks she won't tell me what I want to know?" the room was deathly silent. "So since Little Hostage _can't._ tell me," he said, pointedly looking at Sage. "Is there anyone here who can?" the drawl was creeping back into his voice, but Sage still heard the annoyance and anger through it.

No one answered. "WELL?" he snarled.

Almost immediately, a sniveling voice popped up. "It was Dorchette." Sage's head whipped around. Leppun had stepped forward, and his face was every inch sincere.

Dorchette leapt up from his seat in the corner, bristling. "THAT'S A LIE! I was nowhere near this place last night! You know I was on a mission, he's lying, Mr. Greed!"

Greed considered this. "Leppun, why are you so certain it was Dorchette?" the drawl was all the way back now. Sage didn't trust it. She always had the feeling Greed knew a lot more than he let one.

"I came across him when he was stuffing her back into her room." He said without missing a beat. "He told me to 'keep it on the down low, a favor between friends.'"

Dorchette was livid. "LIAR!" he roared, hurling his chair across the room.

Greed was unfazed. "Why would Dorchette do this?"

Leppun immediately had his response. "Old grudges, I'm sure."

Greed nodded, and walked again around Safe, surveying the injuries. Casually, almost conversationally, he asked "Dorchette, you are a lefty, are you not?" he even flashed a smile of his jagged teeth at the dog-man.

Dorchette had calmed some, with Roa's hand on his shoulder. "That's right sir." Sage snuck a glance at Leppun. His face was a few shades whiter than it naturally was. Greed was nodding, as if he had just learned an interesting fact. His paced circles were growing wider, bringing him closer and closer to the audience.

"May I see your knuckles, Dorchette?" he drawled. Dorchette held out his hands. "Ah. Thank you, Dorchette, that's all."

Greed's march had landed him right in front of Leppun, and lightning fast, he grabbed Leppun's wrist and jerked it up to eye level. Sage's heart began to flutter with hope.

But Leppun's knuckles were smooth, unmarred by the scrapes punches leave. Sage cursed inwardly. Then Greed grabbed the other hand, the right one. A deep, purplish half-moon shape was carved there: Sage's teeth marks. A small smile lit Sage's face.

Greed's eyes were dangerous now, and he locked then to Leppun's grey ones. "So, who did you say attacked my stuff?"

Leppun quivered for a moment before sputtering "I'm sorry sir! She was trying to escape, and I know it's the third time or something, and I was just looking out for your property sir! It was shortly after midnight, and I didn't know what else to do! I didn't tell you because I was afraid you would be angry and not understand. I caught her right as she was about to slip out, and she attacked me first! So I was defending myself, and I suppose I got…carried away. I was only looking out for you, Your Excellency!" He finished frantically, sweat running down his face and his fear coming off him in waves that were tangible to everyone in the room.

Greed smiled, but even Sage could see it was treacherous. Leppun couldn't. He released Leppun's wrist and walked slowly away.

"Trying to escape was she?" he glanced frankly at Sage.

"Yes sir!" Leppun exclaimed.

"I see." Greed paused for a few moments. Then said quietly. "You would stake your life on this?" his voice was dripping with venom, and Sage shivered at the abrupt change in personalities.

Leppun hesitated. "Of course sir."

Greed spun around, his hand fisted in Leppun's shirt front. "You _dare_ lie to me, Leppun? She was with me, in the showers last night shortly after midnight. Even if you got the times mixed up, why would she try to escape when she was just getting a shower? Hmm? Does she want to look nice and clean for the world? Hmm?" The room was deathly silent, everyone terrified by the scene before them. Greed hurled Leppun to the floor. "You disgust me."

He turned his back to Leppun, breathing heavily, and veritably shaking with anger. Leppun squirmed behind him, sobbing and whining for mercy. Even Sage couldn't stand to see him like this. Some people tried to leave.

"YOU WILL STAY!" Greed bellowed. "YOU WILL WATCH THIS."

With those words, Leppun clutched at Greed, but Greed whirled on him, seized his head in one hand, and, with a flash of silver and blue, crushed Leppun's head with his bare hands.

* * *

**AN: hey! A longer chapter! Cool! haha R&R please! Your reviews keep me alive and inspired :D **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry short chapter! I just had to get this part down, I will upload again soon! R&R!**

Chapter 7

Leppun's mutilated body teetered on it's knees for a moment or two, and then slowly slumped to the ground with a thud, trailing driblets of blood after it.

The blood. It was everywhere. It had splattered in an eight foot diameter around the scene, it was still pulsing weakly from the gently twitching carcass, it was spreading in a pool from it. It was covering Greed's hands.

Sage had fallen backwards in shock when it had happened, and now she scrambled away from the crimson tide that was inching its way towards her. Her stomach roiled with revulsion and alarm, and for a moment she couldn't think straight. After staring at what used to be her arch enemy for a long moment, she looked up at greed, horror on her face.

He was looking at his hand, which looked like it was gloved in a dusky silver metal, with claws. It was slick with gore, and Sage felt her stomach threaten to empty. Greed did as he had before, and shook his hand to rid it of the blood. It slid easily off the metal.

Then, even as she stared at it, his hand began to spark and flash, and as if disappearing, the clawed glove shrank down his wrist, up his fingers, and was gone into his fingertips. He flexed his hand, and then shoved it into his pocket. Sage looked into his face.

He was grinning slightly, as he looked down at his handiwork.

"Wow, I've wanted to crush his head for a long time. Felt good!" he popped his neck and turned around, gesturing to someone to clean up his mess.

"Now," he said, beginning his circuit of the room once more, "have we all learned something?" A few people murmured something along the lines of "yes", but most just nodded. "Good. Class dismissed." He said with a sharp toothed grin, and people shuffled out silently. An air of distress went with them.

He turned to Sage and squatted down in front of her. She scooted away from him, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

"Next time I ask you a question," he said, smiling still. "You answer me. Understand?"

He hadn't let go of her wrist, but held on to it tightly, locking eyes with her. Sage blanched under his unnatural gaze. Though they were smiling, his eyes still blazed dangerously, as they had during the questioning earlier. Sage merely nodded. Looking into his eyes was odd: They could be teasing and jovial, she knew, but now to her, they only appeared to be the eyes of a brutal killer.

"Great!" he exclaimed. "Now. Tell me what happened." He said patronizingly.

After a large pause, during which she tried to bring herself back to her body, Sage explained haltingly. Frankly, it was awkward and embarrassing to try and speak to him about it, especially now. It wasn't like he was going to be sympathetic to her, or pity her. She tried to give him a professional sounding brief, purely the bare essentials of the tale, to get it over with and retain some dignity.

She failed miserably.

Half way through, her eyes misted up, and her fury at herself only made it worse. Finally, she simply threw her head into her good hand and huffed in frustration, trying to compose herself and will Greed away. She had never really understood how embarrassment made people wish to be swallowed up by the earth or to drop dead until now. She sniffled.

Greed shifted, then said, "Yeaaaah…he was a douche. Always had something up his ass. Sounds good to talk about him in past tense, though!" he chuckled. Sage glared at him through her fingers. He was scratching his tummy, looking at the still bloody body of Leppun. "God, I didn't know how much I hated that bastard till now. Welp! Thanks for an excuse to kill the jack ass!" he said brightly.

Sage just looked at him, another few tears slipping down her face, still covered with her hand. He sure blew hot and cold. One moment, he was crushing a man's head with nothing but his hand, the next, he was…was he trying to cheer her up? She slumped her head down again and sighed heavily.

"God, why are you always so down?" he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Sage looked up sharply.

"What?"

Greed rolled his eyes. "You can never take a joke, you're always frowning, you look like hell, and you never laugh— ever. The list is longer than that, Little Hostage, but I don't wanna overwhelm ya." He was drawling again.

Sage was indignant. "wha….Never….Excuse me?"

Greeds grin faltered a bit.

"I! …oh! I was _kidnapped…._unkindly, might I add, beaten _several _times, stuffed into a tiny room, barely any food, no bath for like 4 days, treated rudely by nearly _everyone_ I meet, 'the list goes on', and you're mad cuz I don't _laugh? _Or _look nice?_" she looked at him bewilderedly. "Well, I do apologize, your highness for, for not having the best of—"

"Yeah whatever, you can stop now, I get the point. But man, haven't you ever heard of looking on the bright side?" he sneered.

Sage glared at him. "Care to share with me what that would be?"

"You have a roof over your head, clothes provided for you, hot showers whenever you like, your worst enemy is _dead_—you're welcome—there is a lot to be happy about. Jeez." He finished with a "Tch".

Sage just slouched there, looking at him, first with anger and frustration at his lack of understanding, then mournfully. Finally she let her head drop again.

Greed sighed audibly. "See what I mean?"

"Go away." She sniveled.

He didn't. He considered her for a while, and then said "Hey. We're supposed to be friends, right?"

Sage said "Psh. Hypothetically" Under her breath.

He moved behind her and grasped her numb right arm in one large hand, and braced his other arm on her shoulder.

Alarm rose in her and she began breathing hard, saying "Wait, do you know what your doing? I'm not sure this is a good plan to rekindle a non-existent—"

"Deep breath" he said.

She had no choice, so she gulped in a massive amount of air. Mid-breath, she felt a firm pressure, a twist, a shove, and then _ceearack! _Her shoulder snapped into place and she cried out loud, stars dancing before her eyes. Her already wonky vision wavered, and the only thing she was aware of was the two sturdy pressures on either side of her upper waist, holding her upright.

Finally her senses righted, and her shoulder was only mildly throbbing, which, she assumed, was better than the nothing she had felt only a moment before.

Greed, seeing she had recovered, removed his hands, and then pounded her on the back. "Better?" he asked, again, patronizingly. She nodded shakily. "Good. Roa!" he called.

Roa was at the door in a heartbeat.

"Take her and…do your thing. Fix her up."

Sage turned around, about to say thank you, or something, she didn't know, but he was already walking away.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Sage awkwardly slipped the shirt she had grabbed from the corner of her room over her head, wincing as she wedged her still-stiff right arm through the sleeve. The fabric was one she didn't recognize: it was soft and worn, not stiff and dirty and slightly too-tight-or-lose clothes she was growing accustomed to. It caught a bit on the tape covering her ribs, but then fell loosely around her. She looked down at it and blushed.

It was the shirt of Greed's she had accidentally grabbed that day in the showers. How long ago had that been? Several days, maybe a week. It felt so much longer. Of course, every day down here felt like a lifetime. She had nothing to do, and no one to talk to. Once, she ran into Martel and tried to strike up a conversation, but found she couldn't because her voice was hoarse from lack of use. One of the few things she enjoyed was helping up at the bar.

She never helped when it was open, when customers could see her, of course. But it was enough for her to just be close to the fresh air once in a while, even if she was only sweeping and keeping to herself. Once since the trial, she had even seen Greed outside, talking to someone, a grin on his face.

That was all she had seen of him though. A tiny pang poked her gut. She had to admit that she misunderstood the man, and found him entertaining, to say the least. He always surprised her. She fingered the soft hem of the t-shirt she wore and leaned against the wall, thinking of his actions and words during that trial. Mixed feelings rose up to greet her. He had an eye for justice and truth, but he found so much delight in brutally murdering another man. She had seen it in his face. She had no label or category to place him in now.

A knock sounded on her door then, and Martel opened without waiting for an answer. She opened her mouth to speak, but faltered when she caught sight of Sage's shirt. A glint flashed in her eyes, but was gone before Sage could interpret it.

"Come on, we're goin' up top." And she ducked out again.

Sage scrambled after her, worried that she might have offended her by wearing Greed's shirt. Martel was the closest she had to a friend, next to Roa, and didn't want to lose that bond, not down here, not now.

When they reached the bar front though, Martel was smiling as she directed Sage to her chores, and her worry eased. She spent an enjoyable three hours up there, laughing at overheard jokes, even contributing one of her own, earning raucous laughter. Too soon, Martel commanded that she go below, as the night shift would start soon. Sage tossed her rag into a bucket and headed to the trap door in the floor. Casting one last, fleeting glance at the cool twilight air out the window, she descended into the dark once more.

Sage was so absorbed in her fantasies about freedom that she must have missed her turn by the wall with the chunk missing. When she looked up, she realized her steps had led her into unfamiliar territory, and a stone dropped into her stomach. She was uncomfortable enough down here without being lost on top of it all.

Guardedly, she moved forward, looking for any sort of clue to get back to her own narrow corridor. This hallway was wider and better lit, with some nicer décor in places. Now more curious than cautious, she let her feet take her further into the winding labyrinth, slowing to a meandering stroll.

Gilded frames with lovely paintings decorated the walls here and there, and sometimes her foot-falls were muffled by expensive looking carpets. Why couldn't she be in prison here? She had never seen such nice things, even when she was free. She was in the middle of gawking at one painting in particular, a vibrant one of horses tearing across a field in pursuit of a fox, when she heard loud voices approaching.

Panic filled her and she looked wildly around for someplace to hide, since there was nowhere to run in the long hall, and finally ducked into a solid ebony door with a gold knob fashioned to resemble a hand, a hand that clutched a gigantic deep red gem. She vaguely wondered if it was real or glass as she ducked inside and tugged the door shut. It clicked silently.

Sage was now in utter darkness, and even with her heightened senses, she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. The voices were coming closer, and Sage's heart stuttered as they halted only a few feet before reaching the door. It wasn't difficult to make out what they were saying.

A nasal voice was pleading with the other, it seemed. "Please, sir, this item is worth much more than you realize. I'm sure it would be no trouble to extend your generosity a bit further in this endeavor—" the oily tone reminded her of Leppun.

"Generosity?" a deeper, more authoritative voice exclaimed. A little thrill ran through Sage. Greed.

He continued, "My generosity to you will extend to me not pulverizing you for not bringing it with you today! _That_ was the deal! How dare you come into my domain without holding up your end?"

The sniveling voice tried to say something else but Greed cut him off. "My price will remain the same! Have it here tomorrow or I will find you. And I will take it, paid for or not. I want it. I want it NOW!" something collided with the wall then. "I want them all…I want the art, the money, the power…." Something had crept into his voice as he spoke. It was so…evil sounding. It sounded like sin, or like some sort of lust. It sent a chill down Sage's spine, an unpleasant one this time.  
He must have snapped out of it, because his next words held his normal no-nonsense tone. "Have it here tomorrow by noon." A pair of footsteps scurried away, but the other, heavier pair stayed put for a minute or two more. Sage wished he would leave so she could get back to her own room, where things weren't suspicious or frightening.

Another heavy something smashed into the wall, and with that, the ebony door was thrown open, light flooding Sage's eyes. She squeezed them closed, her heart slamming against her ribs, fear making her stomach clench, and she was sure it was written all over her face. Greed made no move, no sound, only looked at her. Or she presumed he did: she hadn't opened her eyes yet.

"You know…" Greed drawled. "Some people might take this as a very forward gesture; showing up in a man's room, dressed in his clothes, late at night…" he trailed off, leaving the rest up to her imagination. She could sear she heard a smirk in his words.

Her face flooded with heat. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. She could barely see his face; he was only a silhouette against the bright light from the hall. He stood with his arms braced against the door frame, blocking any escape. Embarrassment welled up inside Sage, and she felt her face grow hotter. Her mind was blank. No smart-alec retort made itself known.

He moved closer to her, leaning into the room and reaching behind her with one arm. She wanted to move away, but her muscles wouldn't. A click sounded and the light eliminated the silhouette and showed her his features. His eyes were serious, but his inherent grin still touched his lips. After clicking on the light, he made no move to retreat. Sage gulped and finally forced her muscles to increase the mere 8 inches distance between them.

"uh…am…am I in trouble?" She stuttered, her voice pathetically small.

Greed grinned roguishly. "Depends on why you're here." The innuendo in his voice made Sage's insides flutter.

"I was um…I was lost and I um…I saw some um…paintings and I….you know how it is…I just um…um…"

Greed had slowly entered the room and shut the door behind him.

"You were lost, hm?" his eyes, unsettling as they were, teased her. Sage shuddered against the thought that she might have snuck into his room for another reason... Her voice gained strength.

"Yes, I was lost! What are you implying?" She accused.

Greed grinned. "Nothing that you don't want to be true."

Sage flushed furiously, spluttering "I don't know what you're suggesting, but it is utterly false!"

Greed chuckled and moved past her, brushing her chest with his as he passed. Sage's insides fluttered again. She followed him with her eyes and gasped. His quarters were gloriously furnished, with rich carpets, beautiful artwork, crown-molding, rich silks, deep mahogany furniture, the works. He looked perfect against this back drop as he swaggered to the bed, sitting on the edge and removing his fur-trimmed vest and leaving him in only his tight-fitting t-shirt. Sage's blush deepened, and she swallowed.

Greed smirked at her reaction and stretched, obviously showing off, and noting her reaction.

"Sure it is." He said quietly. He regarded her silently, through those lidded but intense red eyes. Vaguely, Sage wondered what it might feel like to run her fingers over his jaw, to feel the hard muscles she knew were under his shirt.

Snapping out of it, Sage was horrified to realize she had made a step in his direction!

"I, I, I have to go." She mumbled, and fled.

That night her dreams were filled with intense reds and sultry mahogany furniture.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: By the way, Sorry for the delays. It's picking up now, so hopefully I'll be I'm sorry if anything in the following chapter is confusing.  
**

**PS: This chapter was fun to write ;)  
**

Chapter 9

Tonight.

Tonight was the night Sage was going to escape—for real this time.

After she had woken up the morning after her encounter with Greed, Sage had decided that never again would such a rendezvous occur. She didn't know how she would react, and was afraid to think about either of the two outcomes: punching the man in the face, or flinging herself upon him! Several times in the week following that night she had nonchalantly tried to get out of the place, and every time she was escorted back to her room. She had been "lost" a lot lately.

So last night she had stayed up nearly all night puzzling out how she would do it. And now she was convinced that her plan was foolproof.

Sage supposed her escape attempts were growing tiresome: she had attempted at least 4 times. She had lost track of how long she had been down here. Almost a month, now? She missed the sun so much. But most of all, she needed to be away from _him._

She had caught his eye fleetingly at breakfast—she was now allowed to eat with some others in what looked like a mess hall—and she did not like the way his gaze darkened or how his jaw had tensed. What did that mean? So she decided that the best option was to steer clear. After all, he still hadn't decided what he wanted with her yet, as Martel so liked to point out these days. An odd pang tickled her heart at that thought, and it unnerved her more than anything. Whatever. She'd be out of here by tonight anyway.

The hours of the day ticked by so slowly. Too slowly. Sage paced her room dozens of times, cramped though it was, and then started laps to the bathroom and back. More than a few people gave her funny looks.

Gradually, the sun went down. She knew because of the increase of activity down in the nest.

Sage knew from her experience and from talk that the bar front closed at about 3 or 4 in the morning, and opened again at about 7 or 8 at night, depending on demand of customers. All she had to do was wait until everyone was in bed, or settling down at least, and then she planned to make a run for it. It would work. It had to work. If not, she would most likely be put on lock down and have her few precious privileges revoked.

Adrenaline snaked through her veins as the hour approached. She got the shakes. She almost talked herself out of it. Weariness threatened to take over, so she began pacing again. She pulled at the fraying edge of her blanket. She traced the grooves in the wall of her cell. She pinched herself. She did anything and everything she could to stay calm, focused, and awake.

At last, the corridor was silent. She waited about half an hour to venture out though, just in case. When she did open her door, the hall was utterly empty and dark.

She darted out.

Right. Left. Left. Hide. Sneak. Right. There. The ladder beckoned. The trap door, her almost freedom, loomed.

The lid lifted silently, and she was so glad it was well used. She didn't dare to exit the trap door yet, just peeked out, barely breathing. She could see the door. It was ajar. Her breath caught, and her heart started beating rapidly. She didn't want to risk being seen, so she stayed put, watching with wide eyes, all senses on overdrive, for something to move, something to jump out and snatch her away from her freedom. It was so close it was tangible. The door was _right there._

All she had to do was dart outside, and she would be free. But her limbs wouldn't move quite yet, they remained locked with apprehension and fear. She lost track of how long she crouched there, staring at nothing. Finally, her groaning joints brought her back to herself, and she darted one last glance around the pitch dark room, before slipping silently, with practiced ease, out of the trap door. Her boots were slung over her shoulder, and her bare feet made no noise on the wooden floor. The door to her freedom was about 20 feet away. She hesitated for just a moment, before dashing madly to it, desperate to feel the cool air on her skin and the breeze in her hair again.

She was nearly out the door when she glimpsed a flash of moonlight gleaming on metal, and had only a moment to panic, before something struck her in the head, and she fell to the floor, reaching desperately for the open air two feet away before it faded to black, and her body went numb.

She had collapsed, but she wasn't quite gone yet. She felt the smooth, autumn-chill wood on her burning cheek, and for a moment, thought she was back in her old bed in the alley, her face pressed against the ground. Then she felt her head throbbing and warmth trickle across her face, and was certain it was her little dog licking her awake. Something inside contradicted her, making her all too aware that she had failed. Again.

Sage fought for consciousness as boot steps sounded close to her head, and then someone was grasping her waist and effortlessly hoisted her up, up and across a broad shoulder. She didn't care who it was. She just knew she was headed back down to the dark. To the dark, constricting, stone prison. She wanted to kick and fight the strong hands holding her in place, wanted to scream her indignation, but her limbs were…detached from her body, her voice didn't cooperate, and her eyes wouldn't open. Her body was gone, and only vague thoughts remained.

She felt the figure carrying her descend the ladder, and felt, rather that heard, the trapdoor closing above them. She felt an agonizing loss at that, and then, was out cold.

* * *

Greed had seen her sneak out of her room. He had seen her creep down the hall, and knew instantly where she was going. But instead of stopping her then and there, he had decided to see how far she could get. So he had simply taken a more direct route to the empty bar front and waited by the door. He hadn't had long to wait before the trap door in the floor budged, and was silently lifted up a few inches.

He had watched with great interest, wondering how she would go about this. She wasn't at all hasty or careless, he realized as they both waited endlessly. He stood stock still, which wasn't very hard for him, and watched her. He could see her verdant eyes just under the lid and over the floor edge and he watched with amusement as they flicked this way and that, watching for anything that could be a threat.

Finally, she raised the lid, and had slipped out so quietly he didn't know if he had fallen asleep and dreamed the whole thing. But then he saw the longing in her eyes, the intensity, and the fire that burned in them when she gazed outside into the night. It may have been the fever he was sure she had, but there was no mistaking the desperation to be free. Was he really that bad? He had wondered. Then she made a run for the door, and all he had to do was swing his clawed, shielded hand and she was down. He did not enjoy it, as he would have about a month ago. He felt more like he was shooting down a little bird that had just barely had a taste of flight.

He looked at her for a moment, lying there, unmoving on the floor. Blood was running down her face from a deep gash. He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling slightly guilty. He hadn't meant to hit her that hard. Carefully, he slipped his hands around her waist and lifted her to his shoulder. She was not heavy, and he carried her down the across the room and down the ladder easily.

As he carried her down the twisted hallways to her "room", he couldn't help but remember little details of the encounter. The way her eyes had blazed with fear and…recognition? the moment before he knocked her out. The way her hands had unconsciously reached for her freedom as she fell, two feet away from it.

Then they were at the right door, and he shouldered his way in, finding a clump of blankets in the corner. They were dirty and bloody, he saw, as he neared them. This made him look around the room. She didn't have any water, any food—or any evidence she had _had_ food—or any clean bandages and the like. He rolled his eyes to himself. When he had said she was a prisoner, he hadn't meant to treat her like an inmate.

Straightening the blankets out with his foot, he shifted his grip around her and laid her on them. He remained crouched for a moment or two as he looked at her face. Blood did not belong there, he decided, watching it slide slowly across her forehead. She looked like she had been born for a very different life than this, but there was nothing he could—or would—do about it.

He straightened, still looking at her. This was the fourth time she had tried to escape. She really needed to stop. It was no use, and she would only keep hurting herself. Stupid girl.

"Determined little punk." He said quietly, a smile splitting his face, despite himself. Then he turned and left her there, lying quietly in her prison. Still.

* * *

Back in his own room, Greed thought about the girl. Sage, her name was. It suited her.

He wanted her. Not necessarily sexually, but it was extreme. He wanted her as he wanted many things, such as art, or money, or power. He simply _had_ to have her, no question about it. He closed his eyes and tried to pin down the reason why he coveted her so. the way her tawny hair swung when she walked, maybe. Or the way she had filled out since the beginning of her stay. She wasn't all curves like Martel—"Been there, done that", he snickered inwardly—she was lean and lithe, with a small but nice bust and a good ass. Yes, he thought, it could be her body.

Most likely it was her eyes, and the fire they betrayed. Vibrant, shockingly green, and so intense. He smirked. It looked like she planned to cause everything she looked at to spontaneously combust sometimes. But when she was laughing, they sparkled and danced. He had only seen her laugh twice. He remembered.

But since usually she was grumpy, it probably wasn't her eyes either.

Frustration welled in him. Who gave a damn why he wanted her? He did, and he would have her, end of story.

Greed grinned as he rolled over. Oh the joy of getting what he wanted.

Because he would definitely have her.

* * *

**;) R&R Please!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: again, so sorry for the long wait, I am pretty busy with school and classes! But I am in a creative swing so HOPEFULLY you all will be getting a few chapters here in the next few weeks! Don't quote me though...Welp, Here it is, CHAPTER 10. **

* * *

A banging on Sage's door jolted her from her thoughts and made her jump.

"Sage." Martel was calling her. She sounded annoyed and upset. "Sage!"

Sage jumped up to open the door. "Yeah, What is it? Do you need me up top?" Martel glowered at her and shoved her back into the room.

"Bet you think your clever. Bet you think this will solve all your problems, and that your days of wasting away down here are over. No no, it's okay, I had the exact same thoughts. But let me tell you right now that none of that is going to happen, and I'll tell you what will happen. He'll be all nice and act like a gentleman, and you'll blush and giggle and stuff. But after all that is over, He'll shovel you back out and you'll be right back where you started. So wipe that smirk off your face and make yourself presentable."

Sage gaped. What in the world was Martel talking about? An uneasy feeling was tugging at her gut.

"I'm...Sorry?" She managed.

Martel gave her a withering glare, and began to turn away. Sage gritted her teeth. She was done with people treating her like this. Grabbing Martel's arm, she yanked her around so they faced each other again.

"Let me rephrase that. _Excuse me?_ What the hell makes you think you can talk to me like that? What makes you any better than me? Because from what I can tell, your just as much of a prisoner as I am, tailing after your _master_ all the time like a dog! So get off your damn high horse and tell me what the hell you're talking about!"

The two women stood toe to toe for a few tense moments, fuming at each other. Finally Martel took a deep breath and straightened.

"Mr. Greed has demanded that you spend the night with him. In his room, in his bed. For as many nights as he deems necessary."

Martel's words seemed to hang in the air. A feeling of weightlessness settled over Sage, and the edges of her vision dimmed. Finally an emotion pricked through her bubble of utter shock. Betrayal. Betrayal? Why would she feel such a thing? Maybe because he had droned on and on about friendship and trust and all that. She had felt like he was someone she could trust, could befriend, and now it turned out he was just using her for sex? Ouch.

Bile rose in Sage's throat, and the rest of her emotions came rushing back. Anger, disgust, nervousness, excitement, bewilderment. She blinked several times, trying to recover some composure, but Martel didn't let her.

"Come with me, we've got to get you properly dolled up," she said, her words dripping with scorn.

The next few hours were a blur. She got a shower, with some very good smelling soaps, her body hair was waxed, her hair was brushed out-quite a chore, as it hadn't been brushed in weeks, and subtle hints of make up were applied to her face and the bruises that still lingered.

Before she knew it she was sitting alone in a small room, "all dolled up", waiting for the time to arrive.

Sage sat there, twiddling her thumbs, thinking. She was still a virgin. She had only ever kissed about 2 boys in her entire life, not including small childish pecks when she was young. How could this be happening? So sudden!

She frowned and chewed her bottom lip. Wasn't your first time supposed to be...like...special or something? It was supposed to be with someone you love, or at least someone who means something to you. Wasn't it called 'making love'? It was supposed to me meaningful, lovely, significant. So why did she feel like...a whore? Like she was being used, like she was an outlet of some kind?

A feeling of regret tugged at her chest. Why was Greed doing this? Did he know _anything _about women? What made him think that one would want to be treated like this? Made "pretty enough", thrown into his bed, and used? It was as good as rape.

Sage's eyes began to fill with tears. To think that she had thought Greed was an okay guy, if a little crazy, bloodthirsty and...well, greedy. She had thought he was a good guy, and was on her side, or something. But it turns out that he was like Leppun: Oily and smooth, but evil.

No, she reprimanded herself, he wasn't evil. Selfish and cruel, but not evil. He had no obligation to her. He didn't know her, he rarely even spoke to her. Sage didn't know why she was feeling so hurt and let down. She didn't mean anything to him, and she had no right to expect anything from him.

Well...he had _said_ they were friends…

At that moment, there was a swift knock on the door, followed immediately by Roa. Sage's face burned at being seen by the older man while wearing such a revealing ensemble: a simple, low cut, red silk nightie and some sheer black thigh-highs. Not only did she feel like a whore, she reflected absently, she looked the part.

If Roa felt awkward, he was a phenomenal actor, because he didn't show it a bit. He gave her a tight smile and held the door wider, inviting her to come with him.

Sage, hesitated, giving him an imploring look. She had so many questions, but didn't have the faintest idea where to begin. Turned out that it didn't matter: Roa simply shook his head, and something flashed in his eyes before he averted them, leaving the room and expecting her to follow.

As Sage trailed down the corridors after him, the sinking feeling in her gut intensified, and her nerves kicked in, making her hands shake. Frantically, she tried to calm herself, and run through what little she knew about sex in her head. All too, soon, they were there.

Roa reached for the knob, and without really thinking about it, Sage snatched his hand from it wordlessly. He paused long enough to give her an encouraging look, and the door was opened.

Sage was paralyzed: she couldn't make herself step through the door. Her heart pounded and she felt tears threaten to fall. Gruffly, Roa grasped her wrist and pulled her through the door, shutting it quickly behind her. She was alone. Greed didn't count in this instance.

But...she didn't see him. Granted, it was a rather extensive room, with other doors branching off, so he might be behind one. She backed up a step or two, until her back was against the beautiful dark wooden door. The lavish furniture, so sultry and inviting before, and in her dreams, was now manipulative, vulgar somehow.

Chastising herself for being such a ninny, she took several deep breaths, closing her eyes and tugging down the hem of the skimpy silk she wore.

"Why hello there," came a deep drawl.

Sage nearly jumped out of her skin, barely biting back a yelp of surprise. Her heart began pounding with nervousness all over again at the sight of him.

He wore black jeans, slung low on his hips, and his fur hooded vest lay open over his bare chest, the strange tattoos criss-crossing over his torso and down his arms. His jet black hair glistened with water droplets, and he had a towel draped around his chorded neck. A smirk touched his lips, and she realized that he had caught her checking him out again. She pressed herself even more firmly against the door.

His eyes narrowed as he studied her, and she flushed under his direct gaze.

"What _are _you wearing?" he sneered.

Resentment rose in her throat like bile, despite herself. "How should I know? It's not like I picked it out, trying to impress you! It's not like I had any sort of choice!" she snapped, tears of humiliation and trepidation pricking once more.

He seemed not to notice, and continued, "Thank god, I should hope you have better taste than that. Red isn't really you're color is it?"

She was about to bark a retort, but she noticed the smile playing at the corners of his mouth, and realized he was trying to jerk her chain.

"Whatever." was all she muttered, and lowered her eyes to the floor, trying desperately to calm her racing heart and buzzing nerves.

The silence dragged on between them, and finally she looked up to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning casually on one arm, using the other to towel off his hair. He was still regarding her sardonically, but he was not smiling.

"Come here." he said flatly. Panic began to close up her throat at his tone, and she found it hard to breathe as her feet drew her towards him.

"Sit down." he commanded once she was before him. She perched lightly on the very edge of the soft duvet, keeping her hands tucked rigidly under her thighs, refusing to meet his ruby gaze.

He let out a breath. "What is the matter with you? I can't figure out why you are such a downer, and it's starting to piss me off, ya know." The drawl was back, and she felt herself relax a fraction. This Greed, she could handle. The other one frightened her.

"Nothing's the _matter_ with me." she said brusquely, trying to sound unruffled.

"Bull shit. I could knock you over with a feather, you're so tense. This is supposed to be fun, little hostage."

"Do you tell that to all the girls, or am I just lucky?" she let some haughtiness leak into her tone.

"Cut that out." the flatness was back, and with it, the stiffness to her posture. He paused. "I'm going to check out things up top. When I get back, I expect you to have an attitude adjustment."

Sage said nothing.

"Understand?" he snapped.

She jumped, and nodded. He looked at her for a moment more, then sighed deeply. "Look, just...make yourself comfortable. This is a nice place, a sight better than your last one, if I'm correct." Still she did not reply. He punched her shoulder lightly, saying "This is supposed to be fun, remember?"

With that, he tossed his towel away, ran his hand through his spiky hair, and was gone. She was alone with her thoughts.

After a minute or two of sitting primly on the edge of the bed, she relaxed, and let out the breath she had been holding. He was gone for now. Progress. Or at least postponement. Shakily, she stood and walked to the right side of the enormous bed.

A tear spilled down her cheek, and she angrily wiped it away. There was no reason to cry now! She felt like such a child, a naive, scared little child. Greed was right, she needed to grow up, to get over it. As she turned to sit down on the bed once more, she caught sight of herself in a mirror. It was quite a surprise.

Her face was thinner, or at lease more defined. Her tawny hair looked a bit lank, but a brushing and washing had done wonders for it. But past that, there was nothing she saw that she liked. She looked so gaudy in the silly ensemble. The red nightie was garish and indeed was not her color. It hung awkwardly on her, a body not made for such lingerie. The stockings were a bit better, but not much. The lace and frills on them looked silly, and made her feel like she was playing dress up. Immediately she ripped them off, along with the nightie. This left her in only black panties. The make up on her slightly gaunt face looked bad too, and she hastily wiped it away.

There, that was better. She felt more like herself now. She didn't like extras; the curls, the frills, the powders. She preferred being...well, natural. And this was as natural as she could get at the moment. Looking at herself again, she felt a little better.

Now that her nerves were calming and the adrenaline wearing off, she felt tired, worn out from the stress of it all. Climbing under the covers, she even let herself enjoy it, while she could. Greed might be back any minute after all.

The sheets were sooo heavenly against her bare skin, and she hadn't felt a mattress in weeks. Or a pillow. The fluffiness and texture of it all was delicious, and before she had a chance to drink it all it, she was asleep.

* * *

Greed was not happy with how that exchange had gone. Not happy at all. It wasn't like he had expected her to melt at his feet and be an utterly willing partner. If he had wanted that there were plenty of other outlets. He didn't want an outlet though. He didn't even know what he wanted. But one thing for sure, he didn't want an unwilling partner, especially not in this instance.

He certainly hadn't counted on her being _this_ unwilling! She looked positively revolted by the idea! It made him mad. ...but not that mad. He couldn't really be mad at her. He didn't like being mad in the first place, it was so unattractive. And he really couldn't blame her.

So, after an hour or so at the bar front, giving her-and himself-some time to calm down and cool off, he headed back to the room, ready for her attitude and quips.

Upon arriving, however, he found her mostly naked, and sound asleep. She had removed the ridiculous outfit-he didn't even want to know who had picked that out, but he had an idea-and the make-up. An improvement.

He studied her for a minute longer, deciding on what to do. Finally, he removed his shirt and vest, got into his bed, and went to sleep.

* * *

Sage woke slowly and luxuriously. For a good ten minutes, all she was aware of was being comfortable and warm.

Then, with an uncomfortable and unwelcome jolt, she realized there was a man's back less than an inch from her nose, and it all came back. She snapped up and scrambled away from him, clutching the covers to her bare chest, and thoroughly waking him in the process.

"Oh my god, are you serious," he growled. "What the hell is your problem?"

Sage blinked. She had underwear on, he had pants on, and she had no recollection of anything explicit going on between them.

"Wait a second...nothing happened?"

"You are a genius, did you know?" He muttered, still angry at his rude awakening.

"I can't believe this, you drag me down here, and you didn't even try anything?"

"You're welcome?" he snapped. "And I can fix that if it means that much to you."

"NO, no…" she hastened to say. "Just...I mean...thank you…"

He gave her a queer look.

"I mean...you didn't..._want_ to?" she asked quietly.

He sighed, and rubbed his eyes before running a hand through his hair. "No," he replied, standing and reaching for his shirt. "_You_ didn't want to."

Slipping the clothing over his head, he picked up a jacket and was gone, leaving Sage to puzzle over his words.

* * *

**A/N: Alright, I'm sorry I have to say this, but I have noticed that I have a good number of readers, but NO REVIEWS. It is really important to me to get those, because they help me to know what to change, how to improve, and if people like where the story is going and how it has gotten there. It really improves me as a writer, and I can learn for stories to come, or even for chapters to come. SO PLEASE PLEASE review. **

**Also, thank you for reading! Its nice to know I have so many readers, very encouraging. :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: **I'm going to stop apologizing :( I know I am TERRIBLE at updating in a timely fashion, and I know this chapter is short, but it is very late right now, and a short chapter HOPEFULLY means there will soon be more. Enjoy :) and please R&R!

Chapter 11

Sage didn't see much of her new roommate for the next two days. She still stayed in his lavish apartments, but spent her hours up top, as there was really nothing else for her to do. She went to bed alone, but he was always there in the morning. He rarely spoke to her, unless to tease her lightly, but mostly he got up, collected his clothes and showered promptly, leaving little time for conversation. In these brief times when they were together in the room, it was strangely awkward, like they had taken a step back, and Sage couldn't help but feel responsible.

They hadn't exactly been best friends before, but when they spoke it wasn't unpleasant-for the most part. But now, it was as if he was too upset with her behavior towards him. She _had_ been rather rude, openly showing her disgust at the thought of any sort of intimacy between them, his unkind comments aside.

The third morning of their co-habitation, as she discreetly watched him gather his things in silence and leave, she felt this guilt strongly, and decided something, despite her occasional distaste towards the man. If they were going to live together, she needed to make it right.

She thought about how to go about it all day, trying to find the least awkward way to broach the topic, and then somehow apologize without sounding like a ninny, or a child. Her absent-mindedness affected her performance of her tasks at the bar-front, and she was sent back down earlier than usual with her wrists hypothetically slapped.

Now, she sat on the plush bed for about an hour, trying to come up with a way to go about this, but came up with almost nothing. Taking a deep breath and huffing it out, she ran a hand through her tawny locks and decided she would just wing it, and bring it up when he came in tonight, however late that might be.

Several hours later, after a shower, a meal and brushing her hair a thousand times, he still wasn't in. She had no way of knowing what time it was, but her eyes were beginning to droop and yawns were slipping out every few minutes. Frustration and discouragement tugged at her. It was so awkward to live here with him in the first place, and then she had to act like that and chase him away. She gnawed on her bottom lip and played with her split ends, thinking about him.

He wasn't really UN kind to her, just gruff and no-nonsense at times. He had provided clothes for her, and hadn't taken back his shirt. She mostly wore it to sleep in. She glanced around the beautiful room again, her gaze lingering on the guilt frames and the intricate carpets. She never imagined she would stay in a place like this. She didn't even know things like this existed before stumbling into his room that night.

Her thoughts took her back to that day, it seemed an age ago, when she had conjured up that list of needs. There was the proper food column: check. She now ate decent food for three square meals a day. The proper shelter column: check. Looking at the beautiful room, she made that a double triple check. The social column: check-ish. Roa was a friend, Martel still resented her, Dorchette messed with her a lot-in good fun usually, and there were others whom she joked with and who made her smile. Greed...she still didn't know. Was he her friend? He had insisted they were friends from day one, but that wasn't what made one a friend. Still, he had a way about him that made her want to be his friend… Sage shook her head to clear it, her thoughts were straying. The love column was the last one, and that one was empty, but seemed utterly absurd to her at the moment. That didn't stop a face from slipping into her mind at the thought of that column, a handsome face with red eyes and a sharp grin.

She snorted at herself and forced the face from her mind, refusing to give it anymore merit. He was attractive, but that was all, and the only reason he might have appeared in that line of thought.

Another yawn forced its way up her throat, and she decided that as much as she wanted his smile and laugh again, she couldn't wait any more, and was soon asleep.

* * *

Sage awoke several hours later to a shifting in the mattress and the covers being pulled slightly. She stirred and rolled over to face the man who had joined her. He glanced at her and muttered an apology for waking her. She wanted to reply, but the memory of what she planned to say came back to her and she suddenly felt shy, her heart pounding as she tried to find the words. He was sitting up still, removing his shirt and leather cuffs tiredly. She just watched him, still mustering her courage. He ran the tattooed had through his hair and breathed deeply. As he rubbed his eyes, he caught her looking at him from where she lay.

"What is it?" he sounded slightly irritated. "Do I smell? Want me to put my shirt back on? Sorry but it ain't happenin' sister. If you're gonna be sleeping here you can just-"

"No, no it's none of that, there's no problem." She finally said. He paused and looked at her. Her voice held no bite or anger. He had never heard her talk like this. She sounded tired and sort of sad.

"I've...I've been thinking. About my behavior." she started. "I'm…." she took a deep breath, "I'm sorry I've been such a bitch. I mean, not like you're a gentleman or anything"-he scoffed-"BUT….I know that I'm...well I'm better off here than I ever was before, and not that I prefer captivity, because I don't-"

He cocked an eyebrow at her and interrupted. "Is this going to go on for that much longer? Because I'm tired as hell and I'd like to get some sleep."

She glared mildly at him and he saw her jaw tense up a little. Good. He didn't want to make this _too _easy.

"I just wanted to apologize. I know we are 'friends'", she made the quote marks with her fingers, "and I was kind of mean. I'm sorry." she finally finished. She felt her face burning and hoped to God he couldn't see it. He didn't say anything for a minute, just looked at her.

Then he smirked and said "Wow, this must have really been eating you up inside, because you look like shit."

She punched him hard in the shoulder and rolled over with a huff, he barked a laugh and said "Apology accepted."

Vaguely she wondered if it would have been better to keep silent.

Sage woke up on her own for once, instead of to the sound of Greed waking up, her forehead pressed against something warm and firm. Blinking and sighing blearily, she came to the realization that it was Greed's bare back, and she had her face pressed between his shoulder blades. A jolt went through her, but she didn't jerk away this time. She didn't even move. She smiled a little, despite herself, and just lay there, appreciating the fact that she wasn't alone.

Funny, she had always wondered what his skin felt like, smelled like. It was warm and smooth, and he smelled...like a man. She didn't know enough about men's scents to place them exactly, but it was sort of spicy. Not bad.

Sleep still tugged at her eyes, and as she didn't have any real obligations today, she shifted a bit closer to her bed-mate, let it take her.

* * *

Greed was usually an early riser. He didn't need an alarm clock, he usually just woke up. Today was no different, except for the fact that the woman next to him was not firmly on her side, as usual. She was definitely on his side of the bed, her forehead resting against his back. Interesting.

Her guilty confession last night had surprised him, to be sure. He had decided to just leave her alone and give her time, but this was good. Very good. Maybe she wasn't so unwilling after all. Not that he wanted to sleep with her-any time soon-but it was really a drag to have such a downer for a roommate. Maybe now she'd cheer up. Maybe she'd even smile or laugh, and he could continue with finding out what he wanted from her and why.

He heard her shift and sigh, and knew she'd be waking up now and tearing herself away with a shriek as usual, when she found herself in such a situation, and he felt a twinge of annoyance. Her breath caught, he braced for it...but she simply continued breathing, she didn't move away or anything, and he knew she was awake, because he felt her eyelashes tickle his back when she blinked. After a moment, she sighed once more, edged closer to him, and went back to sleep.

Go figure, he smirked.


End file.
